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BY     THE     S  A  M  1-i     A  U  T  H  0  K . 


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* 


"  Tfcke  care  little  girl,  or  you  will  slip  in,"  said  a  pleasant  voice. 


N*ni*cfTrnro. 


p.4S. 


NELLIE  OF  TRUEO 


BY    THE    AUTHOR    O» 


VARA:  OR,  THE  CHILD  OF  ADOPTION.1 


NEW    YORK: 

ROBERT    CARTER    &    BROTHERS, 

No.   580    BROADWAY. 

1  8fiO. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

ROBERT   CARTER   A   BROTHERS, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Conrt,  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED  BV  PRINTED    BT 

THOMAS    B.   SMITH.  E.  O.  JENKINS, 

8Z  A  84  Beekraan  Street.  24  Frankfort  St 


P16B 

L — A  FLO-WEE  PICKED  AND  ITS  THORNS  LEFT 7 

n. — A  WILD-FLOWER  IK  A  GREEN-HOUSE 16 

III. — A  DROOPING  BUD  REVIVES  AND  DROOPS  AGAIN 24 

IV. — TRANSPLANTED  FLOWERS 33 

V. — A    ROSE-BCD   AND   A   YOUNG   THISTLE 42 

VI. — DIAMOND  CUT  DIAMOND 64 

VII. — GENTLE  TRAINING  AND  PRECIOUS  FRUITS 63 

VIII. — PATIENCE  TRIED,  LOVE  SURPRISED 73 

IX. — FELICITATIONS  AND  PRESENTATIONS 84 

X. — THE  THISTLE  BECOMES  A  GARDEN-PLANT 91 

XI. — THE  WILD-FLOWER  UNDER  EXAMINATION 99 

XII. — VARIETIES  OF  THE  SAME  GENUS  HOMO 107 

XIII. — A  RARE  SPECIMEN  FOR  THE  HUMAN  HERBARIUM...  114 

XIV. — A  SPRIG  OF  GENTILITY  MORE  SHOWY  THAN  WORTHY.  125 

XV. — BRIGHT  SUMMER-TIME  AND  A  CHRISTMAS  TALE 133 

XVI. — WISE  HEADS  ON  YOUNG  SHOULDERS 147 

XVII. — GARDEN  THISTLES  ARE  THISTLES  STILL 155 

XVIII. — FLOWERS  WELL-SORTED  AND  A  NEW  SEEDLING 167 

XIX. — SPIRITUAL  HUSBANDRY,  SUNLIGHT,  AND  SHOWERS 176 


2051293 


YI  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

XX. — THE  TREES  OP  LEBANON  MAKE  THE  THISTLE  KING.  1 185 

XXL — PETALS  OF  CHARACTER  UNFOLDING 192 

XXII. — NETTLES  STING  WITH  BEST  INTENTIONS 199 

XXIII. — SPIRITUAL  DROOPINGS  UNDER  BAD  CULTURE 214 

XXFV. — A  FLOWER  GATHERED  BY  A  GENTLE  REAPER...  224 

XXV. — LIGHT  SORROWS  AND  HEAVY  PLEASURES 234 

XXVI. — SOME  THRIVING  PLANTS,  MORE  WEEDS 243 

XXVII. — VILLAGE  FRIENDS  AND  UNEXPECTED  GUESTS 250 

XXVIII. — PLANTS  WELL-ROOTED,  TRIED,  AND  APPROVED 261 

XXIX. — SUNRISE:  THE  SPRIG  OF  GENTILITY  ODOROUS 279 

XXX. — GENTEEL  BEAUX  AND  VILLAGE  BELLES 290 

XXXI. — DIAMOND  TRUE  DIAMOND 302 

XXXII. — A  SPECIMEN  OF  HUMAN  BRAMBLE 319 

XXXIII. — THISTLE  OUT-ROOTED  :    BRAMBLE    AND    PASSION- 
FLOWER   333 

XXXIV. — ROSE-TREE  AND  THORN-BUSH  AFFECTIONATE 340 

XXXV. — A  BLIGHT  ON  THK  ROSE-TREE 350 

XXXVI. — MILDEW  ON  THE  THORN-BUSH 360 

XXXVII. — ROSE-TREE  AND  CELIBACY,  THORN-BUSH  AND  MAR- 
RIAGE   369 

XXXVIII. — A  GREAT  HEART  HORS  DE  COMBAT 375 

XXXIX. — A  SUDDEN  GUST  AFTER  BRIGHT  SUNLIGHT 382 

XL. — ODORS  OF  PIETY  IN  STRANGE  PLACES 390 

XLL — THE  LOST  FOUND 403 

XLLL — ORANGE  BLOSSOMS  AND  MYRTLE 416 


I. 

$,  |iote  f  ickdr  ana  its  f  (pro  f tft. 

"  Not  wholly  in  the  busy  world,  nor  quite 
Beyond  it,  blooms  the  garden  that  I  love. 
News  from  the  humming  city  comes  to  it 
In  sound  of  funeral  or  of  marriage  bells; 
And,  sitting  muffled  in  dark  leaves,  you  hear 
The  windy  clanging  of  the  Minster  clock." 

ALFRED  TENNTBOir. 

]\ /TR.  HILL,  the  florist,  was  somewhat  of  a  philosopher. 
•*•"-*-     "Letitia,"  he  said  one  day  to  his  pretty  daughter — 
others  called  her  "  Hetty" — "  Letitia,  there  is  a  Providence — " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  answered  abstractedly,  not  observing  that 
her  father  paused  to  collect  his  thoughts. 

"  Letitia,"  resumed  Mr.  Hill  with  some  asperity,  "  there  is, 
I  say,  a  Providence  in  little  things." 

"Oh,"  ejaculated  Hetty,  in  an  apologetical  tone,  as  she 
transferred  a  geranium  from  a  smaller  to  a  larger  pot. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Hill ;  "  American  trees,  ages  ago, 
grew,  decayed,  and  formed  this  rich  vegetable  mold  which  is 
to  nourish  the  acacias  I  am  now  transplanting.  And  other 
acacias,  now  flourishing  in  India,  thousands  of  miles  distant, 
are  providing  catechu  to  tan  the  skins  of  animals  that 
browse  in  American  pastures.  It  is  wonderful,  is  it  not  2 — 
Letitia !  do  you  hear  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Why  don't  you  answer,  then  ?     What  was  I  saying  ? 


8  A     FLOWER     PICKED 

"  Talking  about  tanning,  sir." 

"  It 's  easy  to  see,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  jestingly,  "  where  your 
thoughts  are.  Do  you  imagine  every  one  feels  as  much 
interest  in  tanners  and  curriers  as  yourself?" 

"  I  am  sure  I — "  and  Hetty  tossed  her  head,  either  at  the 
geranium  or  some  imaginary  person,  "  don't  care  a  geranium- 
leaf  for  all  the  tanners  and  curriers  in  the  world." 

"  Except  one,"  put  in  her  father. 

"Father,  I  do  wish  you  would  not  talk  to  me  about 
George  Hughes.  I  look  a  little  higher  in  the  world  than 
to  a  tan-pit !" 

"  Take  care,  Letitia,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  exchanging  the  tone 
of  raillery  for  one  of  serious  concern ;  "  take  care,  or  you 
may  fall  into  a  worse  kind  of  pit  than  that.  I  begin  to 
think  that  America  is  not  much  different  from  England  in 
some  things.  There 's  almost  as  much  rank  and  aristocracy 
here  as  there  ;  only  it 's  money  here,  and  blood  there.  No 
matter  if  a  man  has  intelligence,  he  is  looked  down  upon 
unless  he  has  money  too." 

"  Letitia,"  said  Mr.  Hill  again — Mr.  Hill  prided  himself  on 
his  botanical  knowledge,  and  never  permitted  an  inaccuracy 
to  pass  unconnected — "why  do  you  call  pelargoniums 
geraniums  ?" 

"  Every  body  does,  father." 

"  Every  body  has  not  the  same  opportunity  of  learning  the 
difference,"  answered  her  father,  with  evident  vanity.  "  Ge- 
raniums and  pelargoniums  belong  to  the  same  natural  order, 
but  should  not  be  confounded  by  a  florist." 

Hetty  received  the  reproof  quietly,  and  nothing  was  said 
by  either  for  a  few  minutes,  when  Mr.  Hill,  whose  thoughts 
had  got  back  to  the  old  train,  fell  to  philosophizing  again. 


AND     ITS     THORNS     LEFT.  9 

"  Letitia,  as  I  was  saying,  there  is  a  Providence  in  little 
filings.  There  now  is  George  Hughes.  I  knew  his  grand- 
father in  England,  when  I  was  a  little  boy.  His  grand- 
father came  to  America,  and  I  never  heard  of  him  again. 
But  now,  I,  grown  to  be  an  old  man,  have  come  to  America 
too,  and  here  I  chance  to  fall  upon  old  George  Hughes' 
grandson  :  who  knows  what  he  may  be  to  us  yet  ?"  and  Mr. 
Hill  glanced  archly  at  his  daughter. 

"  I  don't ;  and  don't  want  to,"  she  answered.  But  Mr. 
Hill  resumed  his  gravity  and  the  thread  of  his  discourse, 
without  noticing  her  reply. 

"  The  circles  of  life,"  said  Mr.  Hill,  suspending  his  work, 
and  flourishing  his  trowel  in  the  air,  "intersect  at  unex- 
pected points,  and  exert  mutual  and  unsuspected  influences. 
Behold  the  orbits  of  planetary  motion,"  and  the  trowel  and 
eye  of  the  speaker  were  directed  to  the  zenith,  "  how  inti- 
mately related  !  They  have  common  centres,  points  of  con- 
tact and  intersection,  and  reciprocal  influences.  So  with  the 
circles  of  social  life,"  and  the  trowel  and  eye  came  down  again 
to  the  earth ;  "  they  are  often  indeed  identical  when  they 
least  seem  so.  Individual  lives  start  at  different  points  on 
the  same  circumference,  and  seem  to  be  widely  distinct  and 
separate.  But  one  overtakes  the  other,  their  forces  unite, 
their  circles  blend  and  melt  into  one,  and  the  orbits  of  their 
lives  forever  after  coincide.  Thus  man  and  woman,  strangers 
to  each  other  and  unassociated  in  any  way,  unexpectedly 
meet,  love,  marry,  and  become  one  and  inseparable." 

"  Father,"  exclaimed  Hetty,  "  there  is  Mr.  Lee." 

Mr.  Hill  looked  discomfited  and  annoyed  ;  it  may  have 
been  at  the  interruption  of  his  eloquence,  or  it  may  have 
been  at  a  sly  expression  in  the  daughter's  voice,  which  by 

1* 


10  A    V  L  O  Vi  K  H     PICKED 

some  subtle  telegraph  conveyed  the  idea  that  she  connected 
his  last  words  with  the  inappropriate  appearance  of  Mr.  Lee. 

Hetty  retired  to  the  furthest  end  of  the  green-house,  and 
busied  herself  behind  a  tall  japonica-tree  that  concealed  her 
from  sight.  Mr.  Hill  received  Mr.  Lee  with  a  less  benevolent 
welcome  than  usually  smiled  in  his  fine,  intelligent,  good- 
natured  face. 

"  I  came  to  look  after  my  japonica,"  Mr.  Lee  remarked, 
after  the  first  words  of  salutation  were  passed. 

"  There  it  is,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Hill,  pointing  to  the  tree  at 
the  further  end  of  the  green-house,  and  resumed  his  work. 

Mr.  Lee  went  directly  to  the  japonica-tree,  and  stood  for 
some  time  in  an  attitude  of  close  examination  over  one  of 
its  most  perfect  flowers.  Well  did  it  merit  examination.  It 
was  a  pure  white,  and  yet  through  the  white  there  was  the 
least  tint  of  rose  color,  the  least  blush,  or,  as  might  be,  re- 
flected blush  of  the  rose.  The  petals  were  full,  without  over- 
crowding, each  perfect  in  itself  and  slightly  crimped  and 
fringed  at  the  edges. 

Beautiful  as  the  flower  was,  and  often  as  Mr.  Lee  had 
come  to  see  it  since  it  was  a  little  bud  inclosed  in  its  thick, 
green  calyx,  he  had  never  before  bestowed  upon  it  such 
close  attention ;  and  Hetty,  who  stood  unobserved,  was  for 
the  first  time  jealous  of  her  japonica. 

"  Humph !"  muttered  Mr.  Lee,  as  he  turned  from  the 
plant  with  no  very  radiant  face.  His  next  exclamation  was 
"  Oh  !"  as  he  discovered  Hetty  standing  so  near  him  :  there 
was  some  embarrassment  in  that  "  Oh  !" 

Embarrassment  in  another  helps  a  woman  to  self-posses- 
sion ;  and  Hetty's  jealousy  was  completely  covered  by  the 
ease  of  manner  with  which  she  returned  Mr.  Lee's  salutation. 


AND     ITS     THORNS     LEFT.  11 

"  Is  not  the  japonica  beautiful  ?"  she  asked. 

"  It  is  indeed,"  he  answered. 

"You  have  been  studying  its  beauties  very  minutely," 
she  said  again. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered ;  "  I  came  on  purpose  to  see  whethei 
it—" 

He  paused,  and  the  awkward  embarrassed  air  came  back. 

"  Well  ?"  asked  Hetty,  by  way  of  encouraging  his  ideas, 
or  his  words,  whichever  were  at  fault. 

"  Whether  it  were  as  pretty  as  you  said  it  would  be,"  he 
answered  quickly ;  "  and  I  must  acknowledge,  it  has  verified 
your  prediction.  I  almost  believe  it  stole  that  lovely  rose 
tint  from  your  cheeks — perhaps  it  is  only  a  reflected  beauty, 
that  will  fade  away  in  another  vicinity.  Good  morning." 

He  talked  fast,  and  left  abruptly.  If  there  was  any  thing 
unusual  in  his  manner,  Hetty  forgot  it  in  the  remembrance 
only  of  his  last  words. 

The  morning  after  Mr.  Lee's  visit  to  the  japonica,  Hetty 
was  out  and  at  work  in  the  garden,  when  George  Hughes 
pnssed  by  on  his  way  to  his  work.  It  was  early  spring. 
The  crocuses  were  just  peeping  through  the  packed  and  cakey 
ground.  Every  day  was  increasing  the  work  for  the  florist 
and  his  daughter — his  only  constant  assistant — in  doors  and 
out.  To  Hetty  it  was  a  work  of  love.  Her  English  beauty 
shone  ruddier  than  ever,  and  her  English  songs  rung  out 
from  a  joyous  heart.  She  was  singing  now  and  did  not  ob- 
serve George  Hughes,  who,  leaning  on  the  fence,  watched 
her  for  some  time,  with  a  thoughtful  countenance. 

"  Good  morning,  Hetty,"  he  said,  at  length  ;  "  you  seem 
to  feel  happy  this  morning." 


12  A    FLOWER     PICKED 

"  Yes,  indeed,  George.  I  am  so  glad  spring  is  come,  and 
I  can  work  out  doors  once  more." 

With  a  singularly  soft  voice,  coming  as  it  did  from  a 
young  man  of  rather  rough  exterior,  George  repeated  these 
words :  "  Rise  up,  my  love,  my  fair  one,  and  come  away. 
For  lo !  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and  gone ;  the 
flowers  appear  on  the  earth ;  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds 
is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land ; 
the  fig-tree  putteth  forth  her  green  figs,  and  the  vines  with 
the  tender  grape  give  a  good  smell.  Arise,  my  love,  my  fair 
one,  and  come  away.'  " 

"  That  is  very  pretty,"  said  Hetty ;  "  very  pretty,"  she 
repeated,  as  if  thinking  it  over. 

"  You  know  what  book  it  is  from,  Hetty  ?"  asked  George. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  read  the  Bible  too  much  to  mother  not  to 
know — at  least,  not  to  know  where  the  pretty  passages  are." 

"You  used  to  read  the  Bible  to  your  mother,"  said 
George,  with  gentle  earnestness ;  "  do  you  not  now  read  it 
for  yourself,  Hetty  ?" 

"Not  as  much  as  I  ought,  I  suppose." 

"Why  not'" 

"  Oh,  I  have  so  many  studies  in  the  winter  time  ;  and  in 
the  summer  I  am  too  busy  at  work." 

"  What  are  you  studying  ?" 

"  Geography,  and  history,  and  arithmetic,  and — " 

"  And  what  ?"  insisted  George  as  she  hesitated. 

"  And  French,"  she  replied,  with  a  little  toss  of  her  head. 

"  Who  teaches  you  ?"  asked  George. 

"Father  teaches  me  geography  and  arithmetic;  I  read 
history  by  myself;  and  I  took  one  lesson  a  week  last  winter 
in  French  from  a  regular  teacher." 


A  N  D     I  T  8     T  H  O  R  N  8     1  B  F  T  .  13 

"  Hetty,  what  use  is  there  in  your  studying  French  I" 
asked  George,  in  a  disapproving  way. 

Hetty  colored  a  little,  and  then,  evading  the  question, 
remarked  that  she  believed  George  studied  nothing  but  the 
Bible. 

"  Well,  Hetty,"  he  answered,  picking  up  his  pail  that  car- 
ried his  dinner,  and  preparing  to  go,  "  I  have  studied  at  least 
one  text  in  the  Bible,  and  I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  study 
it  some  day,  too.  It  is  this  one,  Hetty  :  '  We  must  through 
much  tribulation  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.'  " 

It  was  some  hours  afterward,  that  a  servant  man  entered 
the  green-house,  with  this  salutation : 

"  Miss  Hill,  I  have  called  for  that  japonica,  please  ?" 

Hetty's  scissors,  busy  that  moment  in  clipping  the  dry 
leaves  from  a  splendid  La  Reine,  dropped  from  her  hand, 
as  she  turned  on  the  servant  a  surprised,  startled,  incredulous 
look.  The  man,  like  all  of  his  class,  was  a  gossip,  and  con- 
strued the  flower-gill's  silence  into  an  invitation  to  talk. 

"  Guess  you  know  what  that  flower's  wanted  for,  Miss 
Hill;  don't  ye?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  curtly,  as  she  picked  *p  her  scissors. 

"  Now  don't  ye,  Miss  Hill  ?"  asked  the  man,  following 
her  as  she  walked  hesitatingly  toward  the  japonica-tree,  at 
the  end  of  the  green-house. 

"  Have  n't  ye  heerd  ?" 

"  Heard  what  2"  asked  Hetty,  turning  upon  the  man 
quickly. 

"  Why,"  said  he,  hardly  able  to  believe  that  she  had  not 
4  heerd,'  "  how  that  Mr.  Robert  is  to  be  married  this  very 
mornin'  to  Miss  Theresa  Jay ;  and  that  japonica  is  foi  the 
bride." 


14  A    FLOWER     PICKED 

In  an  instant,  almost  before  the  words  were  out  of  his 
mouth,  the  flower  was  cut  from  the  tree,  aud,  imbedded  in 
moss,  was  transferred  to  the  hands  of  the  servant 

So  then,  this  accounted  for  the  unusual  fact  that  Hetty  had 
that  morning  already  received  orders  for  ten  bouquets.  And 
for  this  she  had  so  long  watched  that  japonica,  from  its 
budhood  to  its  blooming.  And  herself,  as  her  fluttering  heart 
had  dared  to  hope,  was  not  the  attraction  to  the  handsome 
young  man  who  had  bespoken  the  flower,  and  had  so  often 
come  to  look  at  it  and  to  talk  about  it.  The  brightest  and 
foolishest  hopes  that  had  ever  gleamed  upon  her  poor  little 
heart,  were  extinguished.  It  was  like  passing  in  a  minute 
from  mid-day  to  midnight.  There  was  the  experience  of  a 
life-time  crowded  into  that  one  bitter  moment.  But  no  one 
knew  it ;  and  if  tears  afterward  fell  on  the  maimed  stalk 
where  the  japonica  once  bloomed,  no  one  ever  saw  them. 

She  did  not  weep  then,  however.  She  stood  in  a  sort  of 
thinking  trance,  gazing  at  the  japonica-tree,  perhaps  five, 
perhaps  thirty  minutes,  till  the  voice  of  her  father  called  her 
to  her  senses. 

"  Letitia,  it  is  after  nine  o'clock,  and  you  have  not  ar- 
ranged the  bouquets." 

Bouquet  after  bouquet  was  called  for  and  sent  to  its  desti- 
nation ;  and  at  twelve  o'clock  all  the  ten  were  gathered  in  a 
church,  where  the  light  streamed  from  a  painted  window  on 
a  wedding  group ;  and  when  the  last  sacred  word  was 
spoken,  the  bouquets  rolled  away  in  luxurious  coaches  to 
the  home  of  the  bride ;  and  no  one  ever  knew  that  they 
were  tied  with  heart-strings.  But  the  flower-girl  sat  silent, 
aad,  and  listless,  among  her  blooming  flowers.  And  there 
ehe  still  sat,  when,  in  the  evening  twilight,  George  Hughes 


AND     ITS     THORXS     LEFT.  15 

eiitered  the  green-house,  and  took  his  seat  unobserved  beside 
her.  Long  he  sat  and  gazed  at  her  iminoveable  countenance. 
Did  he  read  her  thoughts — her  feelings  rather  ?  Perhaps 
BO,  for  he  leaned  gently  over  her,  while  he  whispered  these 
words  in  her  ear  : 

"  HE  wore  a  crown  of  thorns,  not  of  flowers,  Hetty ;  and 
He  sometimes  takes  away  the  flowers  and  leaves  the  thorns 
for  us,  that  we  may  learn  His  only  power  to  save  and  bless." 

George  was  gone  before  Hetty,  in  her  confused  state  of 
mind,  gathered  the  meaning  of  what  he  said.  But  his 
words  were  not  forgotten.  And  in  her  own  room,  on  her 
knees,  at  the  foot  of  Him  who  can  be  touched  with  a  feeling 
of  our  infirmities,  because  He  has  been  tempted  like  as  we 
are,  she  wept  her  first  tears  over  the  rifled  japonica  and  the 
hopes  it  emblemized. 


II. 


in  a 


"  I  know  not  how  others  saw  her, 

But  to  me  she  was  wholly  fair; 
And  the  light  of  the  heaven  she  came  from 

Still  lingered  and  gleamed  in  her  hair. 
For  it  was  as  wavy  and  golden, 

And  as  many  changes  took, 
As  the  shadows  of  sun-gilt  ripples, 
On  the  yellow  bed  of  a  brook.1' 

JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

ROBERT  LEE  and  Theresa  Jay  were  married.  The  cere- 
mony was  solemnized,  by  rule  and  rubric,  in  the  dim 
religious  light  of  the  stained  glass  window  of  a  gothic 
church.  The  red  hues  of  a  saintly  visage,  not  beyond  sus- 
picion of  intemperance,  fell  on  his  face  ;  and  the  yellow  tints 
from  the  glory  of  another  saint,  '  done'  mostly  in  blue,  ex- 
aggerated the  sallowness  of  her  complexion.  Lawn  sleeves 
shook  down  a  blessing  on  their  heads.  Every  one  pro- 
nounced the  dress  of  the  bride  exquisite  —  what  mattered  the 
face  1  —  and  the  ceremony  '  beautiful.'  At  the  bride's  house 
congratulations  were  duly  received,  '  good  creatures,'  edible 
and  drinkable  discussed,  and  bridal  presents  displayed  to  the 
shame  of  stingy  aunts  and  uncles,  and  the  disgrace  of 
extravagant  cousins  and  '  dear  friends.'  Then  the  '  happy 
pair'  hurried  away  from  the  blaze  of  the  fashionable  world, 
to  the  fashionable  enjoyment  of  a  fatiguing  tour  by  rivers 


A    WILD-FLOWER     IN    A    GREEN-HOUSE.  17 

and  railroads,  lakes  and  turnpikes,  till,  in  due  course  of  time, 
they  arrived  at  the  country-house,  not  many  miles  from  the 
city,  where  the  groom  was  born,  and  where  parents,  sisters, 
and  brothers  were  ready  to  welcome  the  bride. 

It  was  a  large  family  :  Robert  was  the  eldest  child,  and 
his  the  first  marriage.  Great,  therefore,  was  the  rejoicing. 
But  the  happiest  of  all  there  was  little  Helen  Lee,  a  flaxen- 
haired,  blue-eyed  sylph  of  five  summers  (for  all  the  year 
round  was  summer  to  her),  dancing,  laughing,  and  romping 
in  the  buoyancy  of  a  light  heart  and  entire  health.  Brother 
Robert's  arrival  with  a  new  sister,  had  been  the  subject  of 
her  thoughts  and  dreams  for  many  days  and  nights.  And 
when  they  came,  she  was  the  first  to  welcome  them,  after 
her  father ;  he  helped  them  out  of  the  carriage,  and  the  rest 
stood  within  the  great  doorway  ;  but  she  was  on  the  porch, 
and  sprung  to  their  necks  the  moment  they  stepped  upon  it. 
Sister  Theresa  gave  her  an  indifferent  kiss,  and  brother 
Robert  gave  her  a  kiss  and  a  toss  in  the  air ;  and  Nellie 
skipped  away,  happy  in  her  own  true  love,  and  unsuspicious 
that  they  cared  as  little  for  her  blue  eyes  and  fair  skin,  as 
for  her  white  dress  and  blue  ribbons. 

Every  day  Nellie  carried  sister  Theresa  a  bunch  of  flowers, 
and  got  a  toss  in  the  air  from  brother  Robert,  and  never 
doubted  but  that  they  loved  her  dearly,  as  she  did  them. 
And  when  at  last  they  went  away  and  were  to  visit  Europe, 
and  not  return  for  ever,  ever  so  long,  Nellie  sat  down  and 
cried,  as  if  she  really  believed  that  neither  she  nor  they  could 
be  happy  again  till  they  came  back. 

Robert  and  Nellie  Lee's  father  resided  in  the  house  which 
his  father,  and  grandfather,  and  great-grandfather  had  occu- 
pied before  him  :  a  venerable  and  spacious  mansion  built  of  » 


18  A    WILD-FL  O  W  K  R 

gray  stone  that  cropped  out  from  the  lulls  tahind  it.  Va- 
rious additions,  of  various  sizes  and  fashions,  had  been  made 
to  the  original  edifice,  till  it  assumed  the  picturesque  appear- 
ance of  a  whoL-  village  of  houses,  tumbled  and  clustered  to- 
gether withou*  much  regard  to  arrangement.  This  effect 
was  increased  by  the  number  of  barns,  stables,  and  out- 
houses, which  protruded  themselves  at  various  distances  and 
relative  positions  from  behind  the  dwelling. 

A  stranger,  approaching  the  mansion  for  the  first  time  by 
the  main  entrance,  might  suppose  himself  transported  to 
some  English  baronial  estate,  that  is,  if  he  had  never  been 
in  England.  The  distance  from  the  road  to  the  house,  by 
the  principal  carnage-drive,  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The 
large  gate,  flanked  by  a  porter's  lodge,  admitted  you  into  a 
dense  wood,  neatly  cleared  of  underbrush,  and  carpeted  with 
grass.  By  degrees  the  woods  thinned  out,  and  afforded 
glimpses  of  the  house.  Then  there  were  only  clumps  and 
clusters  of  trees,  and  here  and  there  a  single  tree  of  uncom- 
mon size  or  beauty,  in  bold  relief;  and  the  grass  between 
was  softer  and  richer,  showing  evidence  of  shears  and  rollers. 
The  carriage-drive  now  became  an  avenue,  bordered  on  either 
side  by  a  row  of  shade-trees,  lindens,  and  English  maples, 
with  occasional  elms,  both  American  and  English.  At  some 
fifty  feet  in  front  of  the  house,  the  trees  ceased  altogether ; 
the  carriage-drive  widened  among  the  flower-beds  and 
shrubbery  ;  and  the  house,  seen  only  yet  by  glimpses,  stood 
out  plainly  to  view,  a  mass  of  gray  against  the  green  hill- 
side, impressing  the  beholder,  by  the  suddenness  of  its  dis- 
closure, with  an  extravagant  idea  of  its  extent  and  beauty. 

The  main  building,  as  the  great-grandfather  designed  and 
made  it,  was  a  huge  square  pile  of  undressed  stone,  two 


IN     A     GREEN-HOUSE.  19 

stories  high,  with  a  row  of  old-fashioned,  frenchified,  dor- 
mer windows,  peering  up  above  the  eaves,  out  of  the  double- 
pitched  roof.  A  piazza,  elevated  some  five  steps  above  the 
ground,  crossed  the  entire  front.  The  roofs  of  the  house  and 
of  the  piazza  were  carried  up,  at  the  centre  of  the  front  ele- 
vation, into  a  point,  to  give  effect  to  the  massive  doorway, 
which  was  elaborately  carved  into  rich  moldings,  and  in- 
truded into  the  house  from  the  front  wall  to  the  depth  of 
eight  or  ten  feet.  A  very  grand  affair  that  doorway  was,  an 
imitation  of  the  entrance  into  some  baronial  castle,  but  not 
in  keeping  with  the  very  plain  exterior  of  the  rest  of  the 
house,  and  wanting  the  flight  of  broad  steps  which  the 
feudal  prototype  would  properly  have. 

The  doorway  opened  into  a  hall  some  fifteen  feet  in  width, 
running  through  the  house,  from  front  to  back,  without  ob- 
struction of  any  sort.  This  hall,  perhaps,  with  some  attempt 
at  the  old  feudal  castle  again,  was  ornamented  with  antlers 
and  old  worn-out  fowling-pieces,  and  other  trophies  of  the 
chase,  when  the  great-grandfather  had  been  a  pioneer  set- 
tler in  the  domains  of  the  savage  beasts  and  wild  Indians ; 
and  at  the  further  end  of  the  hall,  on  one  side,  was  a  large 
stand  of  muskets  which  had  seen  service  in  the  French  and 
Indian,  and  Revolutionary  wars  :  and,  on  the  other  side,  hung 
in  double  row,  antiquated  leather  fire-buckets,  a  provision 
against  an  element  which,  shriveled,  cracked,  and  corrugated, 
they  could  not  now  hold  water  enough  to  save  themselves 
from. 

On  the  right-hand  side  of  the  hall,  as  you  entered,  were 
two  immense  parlors,  with  three  windows  front  and  rear. 
Beyond  these  parlors  was  the  library,  added  to  the  main 
edifice  by  Mr.  Lee's  lather:  built  in  gothic  style,  with  a 


20  A     WILD-FLO WBR 

tower  at  the  far  end,  surmounted  by  an  observatory,  giving 
to  the  edifice,  to  an  outside  observer,  the  appearance  of  a 
chapel.  In  the  front  angle,  formed  by  the  library  and  the 
house,  the  present  Mr.  Lee  had  built  a  cozy  little  sewing- 
room,  expressly  for  Mrs.  Lee.  This  was  connected  by  a  stair- 
way with  a  room  of  the  same  size  above  it,  which  was  Mrs. 
Lee's  dressing-room,  and  communicated  with  her  bed-room. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  great  hall,  the  front  room,  called 
"  the  oak-room,"  because  wainscoted  with  oak,  was  the  or- 
dinary sitting-room  of  the  family  :  the  back  room,  called  the 
"  tea-room,"  was  originally  the  dining-room,  and  still  served 
that  purpose  when  the  family  was  not  large.  Between  the 
:>ak-room  and  the  tea-room,  was  another  wide  hall,  where 
the  broad  staircase,  with  its  low  steps  and  oak  baluster,  led 
to  the  upper  stories.  This  hall  afforded  another  entrance, 
on  this  the  southern  side  of  the  house,  which  entrance  was 
covered  with  a  handsome  square  portico.  Beyond  the  tea- 
room, Mr.  Lee's  grandfather  had  built  a  new  dining-room, 
and  beyond  that  again  were  the  green-house  and  conser- 
vatories. 

The  house  was  surrounded  with  lawns,  avenues,  groves, 
flower-beds,  walks,  and  carriage-drives,  planned  with  ad- 
mirable taste  and  kept  in  perfect  order.  Vines  ran  up  the 
pillars  of  the  piazza,  and  clambered,  some  of  them,  to  the 
roof  of  the  house.  The  southern  portico  was  completley 
curtained  with  honeysuckles  and  sweet-briars.  The  open 
squares,  formed  by  the  dining-room  on  one  side  of  the  house, 
and  the  library  on  the  other,  were^lanted  with  a  few  choice 
flowering  shrubs,  in  the  midst  of  velvety  grass ;  and  in  the 
centre  of  each  plot  was  a  marble  fountain,  spouting  jets  of 
water,  that  the  wind,  as  it  pleased,  blew  about  in  feathery 


IN    A    GREEN-HOUSE.  21 

spray  over  the  grass.  Around  the  graveled  semicircle,  di- 
rectly in  front  of  the  house,  such  )f  the  larger  green-house 
plants  as  happened  to  be  in  bloom  in  the  summer,  were  ar- 
ranged in  their  green-boxes,  chiefly  lemons,  oranges,  and 
cape  jasmins,  filling  the  atmosphere  far  around  with  their 
overpowering  fragrance. 

Behind  the  house,  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile,  a  high 
ridge  of  hills,  almost  mountains,  elevated  themselves  in  many 
a  craggy  height  and  wooded  eminence.  The  house  stood  on 
the  gentle  slope  of  a  hill-side,  and  commanded  an  extensive 
view  of  the  country  in  front.  A  little  on  one  side,  lower 
down  on  the  same  hill-slopes,  was  the  pretty  village  of 
Cedarville ;  and  beyond  that  the  eye  was  led  along  by  the 
silvery  thread  of  a  little  brook,  to  the  broad  margin  of  a  mill- 
pond,  with  its  picturesque  grist-inill ;  and  beyond  that  there 
was  a  wide  stretch  of  rolling  country,  descending  gradually 
to  the  glittering  bosom  of  a  river,  in  which  the  brook  at  last 
lost  itself;  and  beyond  the  river  the  land  suddenly  rose 
again,  till  it  was  upheaved  into  a  range  of  rugged  and  jagged 
mountains,  blue  and  purple,  and  often  silvered  and  sparkled 
over  with  wreaths  of  showering  mist. 

Such  was  "  Truro,"  as  the  Lee  estate  was  called,  the  home 
of  Nellie  Lee. 

A  happy  home  it  was.  Nellie,  to  be  sure,  was  of  little 
account  in  the  family.  In  that  big  house  where  every  one 
could  do  as  they  pleased,  without  interference  with  each 
other,  Nellie  was  often  overlooked.  A  large  family  in  strait- 
ened circumstances,  afforos  a  healthful  discipline ;  every 
taste  can  not  be  gratified ;  one  must  yield  to  another ;  the 
general  interests  must  be  consulted  to  the  sacrifice  of  indiv- 
idual wishes ;  the  habit  of  self-denial  is  fostered  ;  and  in  the 


22  A    WILD-  FLOWER 

mutual  regard  of  each  other's  welfare,  and  in  the  common 
struggles,  sufferings,  and  joys,  love  is  deepened  and  strength- 
ened. But  where  there  is  plenty  of  money  and  plenty  of 
room,  and  each  may  go  his  own  way  and  indulge  his  own 
inclinations,  there  may  be,  with  no  unkindliness  of  feeling, 
a  selfish  spirit,  or  at  least  a  lack  of  quick  and  thoughtful 
sympathy  and  hearty  interest  in  one  another.  So  it  was  at 
Truro. 

Mr.  Lee  was  a  well-educated,  agreeable,  gentlemanly  man, 
remarkable  for  the  courtesy  and  cordiality  of  his  manners  ; 
admired  by  all,  loved  by  many,  hated  by  none.  Mrs.  Lee 
was  distinguished  by  reticence,  amiability  and  inefficiency. 
Robert,  their  eldest  child,  who  had  married  Miss  Theresa  Jay, 
resembled  his  father,  only  with  less  intelligence  and  mental 
cultivation,  and  less  courtliness  of  manners.  He  was  nomin- 
ally a  lawyer,  but  never  practiced  his  profession.  Next  to 
Robert  was  Norton,  a  studious,  thoughtful  character,  inherit- 
ing from  his  father  and  grandfather  a  taste  for  the  natural 
sciences,  which  he  gratified  by  accepting  a  nominal  profess- 
orship in  connection  with  the  college  of  which  he  was  a 
graduate.  Rupert,  the  third  son,  was  as  unlike  his  elder 
brothers,  as  they  were  unlike  each  other.  He  had  a  horror 
of  books,  and  but  little  taste  for  society.  He  loved  horses, 
dogs,  and  guns,  and  was  addicted  to  fishing,  racing,  and 
hunting ;  he  was  a  sporting  character,  and  nothing  else ; 
never  would  go  to  college,  choose  any  business,  or  submit 
to  any  restraint.  Charlotte  and*  Emma  resembled  their 
father  in  appearance,  and  were  regarded  as  beauties ;  Char- 
lotte had  the  most  regular  features,  and  Einma  the  finest 
eyes :  they  were  fond  of  admiration,  were  full  of  themselves, 
and,  without  wishing  harm  to  any,  were  very  indifferent  to 


IN     A     GREEN-HOUSE.  23 

all  the  world  beside.  Maria,  who  came  next  in  order,  re- 
sembled her  mother  in  appearance  and  general  quietness  of 
character ;  she  was  frail  in  person,  health  and  mind.  Harry, 
the  next  in  age,  was  as  much  like  Nellie  as  a  boy  with  dark 
hair  and  dark  eyes,  can  be  like  a  girl  with  light  hair  and 
blue  eyes :  both  were  impetuous,  generous,  brave  and  affec- 
tionate. Nellie  loved  Harry  better  than  any  of  her  brothers 
and  sisters ;  and  next  to  Harry  she  loved  Norton,  who  never 
came  home  without  bringing  her  some  little  keepsake,  most 
always  a  book  about  the  natural  history  of  bees  or  ants,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  and  never  by  chance  a  story-book. 
Nellie  looked  at  the  pictures,  and  then  carefully  placed  the 
unread  volume  on  a  shelf,  in  her  own  room,  which  she  had 
appropriated  for  the  special  keeping  of  brother  Norton's 
presents.  Nellie  loved  her  other  brothers  and  sisters  too, 
though  they  had  little  in  common  with  herself,  and  she 
never  doubted  if  there  could  be  better  brothers  and  sisters 
in  the  world.  If  they  soon  tired  of  her  fun,  and  said, 
"  There,  Nellie,  that  will  do  for  this  time ;  run  away,  and  do 
not  bother  me  ;"  she  was  ready  to  obey,  with  a  laugh  that 
rung  and  a  step  that  bounded.  If  Harry  could  not  play 
with  her,  Prince,  the  gray-hound,  would;  or,  if  Prince,  for  a 
wonder,  was  sleepy,  the  bright  sky,  the  sunlight,  the  fount- 
ains, the  flowers,  or  even  the  wet  jack-stones  in  the  walks  on 
rainy  days,  or  the  snow  in  the  winter,  were  sure  to  inspire 
her  with  amusement  of  some  sort.  Her  heart,  brimming  full 
ot'joyousness,  was  easily  nade  to  overflow. 


III. 


atfo 


"  The  lady  died  not,  nor  grew  wild, 
But  year  by  year  lived  on  —  in  truth  I  think 
Her  gentleness  and  patience,  and  sad  smiles, 
And  that  she  did  not  die,  but  lived  to  tend 
Her  aged  father,  were  a  kind  of  madness, 
If  madness  'tis  to  be  unlike  the  world." 

PERCY  BTSSHE  SITELLZY. 

TTETTY  HILL  had  come  from  England  with  extravagant 
-*•-*•  ideas  of  American  democracy.  Soon  after  her  arrival, 
Robert  Lee  was  attracted  to  the  green-house.  His  visits 
were  frequent.  He  always,  indeed,  had  some  ostensible  er- 
rand ;  but  he  always  lingered  long  to  talk  with,  the  pretty 
English  girl.  What  wonder  if  she,  with  her  notions  of 
republican  equality,  fancied  a  more  tender  sentiment  in  the 
young  man,  than  the  mere  love  of  flowers  ?  Pleasant  and 
poetical,  and  sometimes  even  sacred,  were  their  talks  of  the 
flowers  ;  and  many  a  tender  word  crept  in,  which  might,  or 
might  not,  be  meant  for  the  flowers  or  their  mistress. 

But  the  dream  was  over  now  —  an  untold  dream,  and  un- 
suspected —  unless  George  Hughes  had  Daniel's  gift,  to  read 
another's  vision  :  but  if  he  had,  he  never  told  it. 

George  Hughes  the  tanner,  plain-looking,  straightforward, 
unpolished  George  Hughes  —  what  if  his  voice  was  soft,  and 
clear,  and  pleasant  ?  what  if  he  was  the  best,  most  pious, 
most  respected  of  young  mechanic's  ?  what  if  he  was  as  kind 


ADBOOPING     BUD     REVIVES.  25 

as  a  brother,  too  kind  ever  to  speak  to  her  of  love  ?  How 
could  Hetty  Hill  ever  marry  George  Hughes !  His  very 
clothes  smelt  of  tan  and  leather :  it  needed  all  the  flowers  of 
the  green-house  to  make  his  presence  tolerable.  Had  not 
her  father  told  her,  that  if  she  came  to  America  she  should 
be  a  lady,  and  might  marry  the  best  in  the  land  ?  And  was 
she  not  more  fit  to  grace  a  high  station  than  many  of  the 
vulgar  women,  who  came  in  splendid  coaches,  to  cheapen  her 
plants,  and  quarrel  with  her  bouquets  ?  And  had  she  not  tried 
to  improve  herself,  and  read,  and  studied  to  the  extent  of  her 
ability,  that  she  might  be  worthy  of  position?  and  should 
she  now  put  up  with  George  Hughes  ? 

But  as  George  never  asked  her  to  put  up  with  him,  he  was 
never  put  down  by  her.  He  visited  on  free  and  easy  terms. 
He  talked  to  the  father,  and. watched  the  daughter:  and 
no  one  could  be  more  quick  and  handy  than  he,  at  any  little 
turn  by  which  he  could  spare  her  steps,  or  her  strength.  He 
had  the  faculty  of  anticipating  her  motions,  and  would  do 
things  for  her  almost  before  she  knew  that  they  were  to  be 
done ;  and  he  did  them  so  quietly  that  she  hardly  knew  when 
they  were  done.  To  have  George  help  her  was  almost  like 
helping  herself,  she  was  so  used  to  it.  Sometimes  he  would 
sit  for  whole  evenings,  talking  to  her  father,  and  she,  rapt 
in  her  own  thoughts,  or  in  some  new  book,  would  forget 
that  he  was  present :  and  yet  George  Hughes  was  looking  at 
her  all  the  time.  George  had  looked  till  he  could  see  clear 
through  and  through  her  heart.  He  had  discovered  its  am- 
bition ;  he  had  read  its  hidden  love ;  he  knew  when  the  one 
was  humbled  and  the  other  blighted.  His  heart  bled  for 
hers.  Bat  he  knew  that  she  was  pure  in  thought,  strong  in 
(vill,  and  prayerful  in  habit ;  and  he  never  feared  but  that  the 

2 


26  A    DROOPING     BUD    REVIVES, 

one  indiscreet  sentiment  of  youthful  inexperience,  would  leave 
her  wiser  and  stronger  to  battle  with  the  future. 

He  came  now  oftener  than  ever ;  and  he  oftener  now  sat 
by  the  daughter  than  by  the  father ;  anl  she  began  to  appre- 
ciate the  good  sense,  and  the  delicate  and  almost  womanly 
feeling  of  the  honest,  burly,  unpretending  young  mechanic. 
George  always  received  a  welcome,  and  was  always  ready  to 
claim  it :  and  she  as  much  expected  his  escort  to  church  on 
dark  evenings,  as  if  he  had  been  a  brother.  And,  when  the 
days  grew  short  and  the  evenings  long,  George  became  her 
fellow-student :  he  taught  her  arithmetic,  and  she  asked  him 
questions,  by  way  of  freshening  his  knowledge,  in  geography, 
and  they  read  history  together :  and,  in  place  of  French,  she 
accompanied  him  once  a  week  to  hear  a  lecture  on  chemistry, 
which,  he  said,  would  be  useful  to  him  in  his  trade,  and 
might  be  pleasing  to  her  as  affording  hints  in  reference  to 
the  color,  fragrance,  varieties,  and  proper  cultivation  of 
flowers. 

So  the  summer  fled  apace,  and  the  winter  passed  away. 


"  The  daughters  of  the  year, 
One  after  one,  through  that  still  garden  passed : 
Each,  garlanded  with  her  peculiar  flower, 
Danced  into  light,  and  died  into  the  shade; 
And  each  in  passing  touched  with  some  new  grace, 
Or  seemed  to  touch  her,  BO  that  day  by  day, 
Like  one  that  never  can  be  wholly  known, 
Her  beauty  grew." 


Hetty  was  contented  and  cheerful.  Less  of  a  girl,  more  of  a 
woman — a  lurking  gravity  in  her  smile,  and  a  thoughtful 
tone  in  her  laugh — in  all  else,  the  same  rosy-faced,  joyous- 
hearted  English  girl  who  had  of  old  divided  with  her  flowers 
the  attention  of  handsome,  or  would-be-handsome,  young 


AND     DROOPS     AGAIN.  27 

men  and  patrons.  But  she  cared  not  now  for  them :  she 
gave  all  their  compliments  to  the  flowers  and  took  none  to 
herself.  She  cared  for  George  Hughes,  though  ;  she  did  not 
herself  know  how  much,  neither  did  she  know  how  much 
she  was  indebted  to  him  for  a  tranquil  and  happy  spirit. 

Mr.  Hill,  the  florist,  having  lost  his  wife,  resolved,  in  the 
mere  restlessness  of  grief,  to  leave  England  and  seek  new 
scones  in  America.  He  came  to  New  York  and  leased  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  city  the  half  of  a  yet  unbuilt,  unim- 
proved square,  in  which  stood  an  old  tenement,  in  a  tumble- 
down condition,  and  around  which  the  mansions  of  the 
wealthy  and  fashionable  were  rapidly  increasing  in  number 
and  magnificence.  His  capital  was  invested  in  fencing  in  his 
lots,  erecting  a  green-house,  stocking  it  with  choice  plants, 
and  cultivating  the  ground  around.  He  had  industry,  skill, 
and  taste.  Wherever  it  was  possible  to  make  a  soil,  and  in- 
duce flowers  to  grow,  he  did  so ;  and  where  it  was  not,  he 
covered  the  staring,  naked  rocks,  glittering  in  mica  and  spar, 
with  English  vines,  trumpet-creepers,  American  clematis, 
syringas,  and  honeysuckles,  red  and  yellow. 

Hetty,  his  only  child,  was  his  constant  companion,  and  in- 
telligent and  efficient  assistant.  The  green-house  was  her 
special  care;  and  all  orders  for  bouquets  were  answered  by 
her  nimble  fingers.  A  rare  skill  in  arrangement  concealed 
deficiencies  in  the  variety  of  the  flowers.  No  one  came 
once,  who  did  not  call  again;  and  the  stock  on  hand  in- 
creased, as  customers  multiplied. 

They  had  now  been  three  years  in  the  country,  and  were 
becoming  femous.  "Hill,  the  florist,"  was  an  acceptable 
adjunct  to  the  embellishment  of  fashionable  entertainments. 
And  young  ladies  sometimes  looked  askance  at  bouquets 


28  A    DROOPING     B0D     REVIVES, 

that  had  been  bought  for  themselves  from  the  prettier  flower 
girl.  Stimulated  by  success,  Mr.  Hill  secured  possession  of 
the  other  half  of  the  square  he  occupied,  with  the  design  of 
extending  his  green-house,  and  enlarging  his  business.  Early 
in  the  spring  he  was  at  work,  putting  up  fences  and  prepar- 
ing the  ground.  One  large  boulder  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
plot  must  be  removed.  Hetty  watched  the  process  of  boring, 
and  listened  to  the  incessant  clink  of  the  hammer  and  drill 
with  a  boding  heart.  She  was  not  used  to  powder,  and  she 
had  a  vague  fear  that  somebody  would  be  hurt. 

Supper  was  ready  on  the  table,  and  Hetty  had  called  her 
father,  but  he  was  anxious  to  make  the  first  blast  that  day. 

"  All 's  ready  now,"  he  said,  as  he  ran  into  the  house  to 
get  the  matches ;  "  listen,  and  you  '11  hear  it." 

"Oh,  father,"  cried  Hetty,  placing  herself  between  him 
and  the  door,  "please  don't  go  near  it.  Give  me  the 
matches,  and  I  '11  give  them  to  the  Irishman.  He  can  do  it 
without  you." 

"  Nonsense,  child,  let  me  go ;  there 's  no  possible  danger." 

"  Father,  I  'm  so  afraid,"  and  Hetty  began  to  cry. 

"  Why,  Letitia,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  you.  I 
thought  you  had  more  courage ;  come,  come,"  and  he  kissed 
her.  "  I  '11  promise  to  be  very  careful :  and  you  must  put 
your  trust  in  God." 

She  let  him  pass  her :  and  she  laughed  at  herself,  as  she 
wiped  her  eyes.  But  though  she  dreaded  being  too  near, 
she  felt  compelled  to  follow  her  father,  that  she  might  see 
for  herself  that  he  was  safe.  The  match  was  applied,  and 
the  father  and  the  Irishman  fled  for  safety  behind  the  fence 
where  Hetty  stood.  They  waited  and  waited,  but  no  explo- 
sion followed.  Cautiously  Mr.  Hill  looked  over  the  fence, 


AND     DROOPS     AGAIN.  29 

Hetty  pulling  him  down  all  the  time.  He  thought  he  saw 
what  was  the  matter.  The  Irishman,  in  running,  as  Mr. 
Hill  observed  at  the  time,  had  set  a  stone  rolling,  which 
rested  on  the  fuse. 

"  There  was  no  use  staying  there  any  longer,"  he  said,  in 
answer  to  Hetty's  entreaties  ;  "  it  would  not  go  off,  if  they 
staid  all  night." 

And  breaking  from  her  he  ran  round  the  corner  of  the 
fence — she  looked  after  him — he  stooped  down  to  pick  up  the 
little  stone,  the  supposed  cause  of  the  difficulty,  and,  in  the 
instant,  came  the  deafening  discharge,  and  the  flying  of  the 
broken  fragments :  and,  before  the  smoke  was  cleared  away, 
or  the  sharp  broken  fragments  had  ceased  to  fall,  Hetty  was 
bending  over  her  father ;  his  gray  hair  was  soaked  in  blood, 
and  he  was  stretched  senseless  on  the  ground. 

With  the  aid  of  the  Irishman,  she  carried  him  into  the 
house,  and  laid  him  on  his  own  bed  in  the  little  sitting-room, 
and  while  the  Irishman  was  dispatched  for  a  physician,  she 
washed  the  blood  from  her  father's  head  and  face ;  oh,  what 
a  fearful  gash  it  was !  His  eyes  were  closed,  his  hands 
warm,  but  there  was  no  pulse,  no  sensible  motion  in  his 
heart.  Still  she  believed  that  he  lived ;  and  still  she  bathed 
his  face  and  hands  with  .water,  with  whisky,  with  whatever 
she  could  find  at  hand.  The  physician  came.  A  few  others, 
to  whom  the  Irishman  had  communicated  news  of  the  acci- 
dent, looked  in  for  an  instant,  and  disappeared ;  there  were 
few  in  that  neighborhood,  happily,  who  would  be  attracted 
to  the  sjcene  of  the  casualty,  and  those  who  did  come,  shook 
their  heads  and  ran  away. 

"  Young  woman,  have  you  no  friends  to  call  in  ?"  asked 
the  doctor 


80  ADBOOPING     BUD     REVIVES, 

"  What  do  you' wish,  doctor  ?  I  can  do  every  thing,"  was 
her  distracted  reply. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  done,"  answered  the  doctor,  as 
gently  as  he  could. 

"  Nothing,  doctor  ?  oh,  please  try." 

As  if  to  satisfy  her,  the  doctor  bared  the  arm  and  struck 
his  lancet  in,  no  blood  came :  he  pointed  to  the  rapid  change 
that  was  passing  on  the  countenance,  and  bid  her  feel  his 
hands,  now  cold. 

"  Tell  me,  young  woman,  where  your  friends  live,  and  I 
will  send  them  to  you." 

She  mentioned  the  street  and  number  of  George  Hughes' 
mother's,  and  the  doctor  left  her  alone  with  the  dead. 

She  sat  by  the  bed-side  with  her  tearless  eyes  riveted  on 
that  calm,  venerable  face,  till  it  grew  too  dark  to  read^g 
features.  The  light  was  still  glimmering  in  through  the 
green-house  sashes.  Not  knowing  what  she  did,  for  she  was 
in  a  maze,  she  followed  the  rays  of  sun  light  that  crept 
among  the  flowers.  How  fresh  and  beautiful  they  looked,  so 
unconscious  of  the  presence  of  death.  And  yet  they  wore  a 
sombre  beauty  in  that  dim  light ;  the  birds  had  ceased  their, 
songs,  and  only  a  breeze  from  the  upper  sashes  swayed  a 
branch  here  and  there  with  mournful  motion.  Hetty  sat 
down  on  a  vacant  place  among  the  flower-pofs,  on  the  shelf 
that  ran  along  the  side,  and  rested  her  head  on  her  arm,  on 
the  rim  of  a  large  flower  pot.  She  was  not  grietpng,  for  she 
was  not  thinking.  She  was  in  a  state  of  mental  atn|phy. 

She  heard  a  step  behind.  She  started,  and,  at  Ae  same 
instant,  remembered  that  it  could  not  be  her  fabler,  and 
recognized  George  Hughes.  Big  tears  were  rolling^'down  his 
cheeks,  and  his  chest  was  heaving  with  uncontrollable  sobs. 


AND     DROOPS     AGAIN.  31 

The  sight  of  sympathy  awoke  her  from  her  dreadful  apathy. 
"  Oh,  George,"  she  exclaimed,  and  burst  into  tears.  They 
wept  together,  hand  in  hand,  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  like 
brother  and  sister. 

How  kind  the  Hughes  were.  George  helped  Hetty 
through  the  inquest  which  some  officious  official  set  on  foot ; 
and  he  and  his  mother,  and  his  sister  Lucy  staid  at  the  house 
all  night. 

A  long  line  of  carriages  followed  the  hearse  to  the  ceme- 
terey ;  and  the  papers  took  special  notice  of  the  sudden  death 
of  "  Hill,  the  florist,"  and  recorded  the  fact,  that  "  as  a  mark 
of  respect  to  his  memory,  the  very  first  families  sent  their  car- 
riages to  the  funeral."  The  truth  was  that  Mrs.  Jay,  being 
largely  in  Mr.  Hill's  debt  for  flowers,  had  expressed  to  Mrs. 
Ephraim  Jones,  great  concern  at  the  sad  catastrophe  which 
had  befallen  "  that  excellent  man,  Mr.  Hill,"  and  remarked, 
that  if  she  only  knew  when  the  funeral  was  to  be,  she  did 
not  know  but  she  would  send  her  carriage.  Mrs.  Ephraim 
Jones  was  getting  up  in  the  world,  and  wished  to  be,  or  at 
least  to  appear,  on  terms  of  familiar  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Jay. 
Here  was  a  chance  not  to  be  neglected.  She  did  not  inquire 
why  Mrs.  Jay  did  not  ascertain  by  means  of  a  servant,  when 
the  funeral  was  to  take  place,  if  she  really  wished  to  know- 
It  served  her  purpose  to  ascertain  the  fact  for  her,  to  be  seen 
calling  twice  on  the  same  morning  in  a  sociable  sort  of  way 
on  Mrs.  Jay,  and  to  be  able  to  couple  that  lady's  name  in  the 
narration,  of  the  affair  with  her  own.  With  these  laudable 
ends  in  View,  the  sympathetic  Jones  hastened  to  the  scene  of 
the  catastrophe,  and  sent  in  her  footman,  brilliant  in  the 
gold-lace  of  a  new  livery,  with  "the  compliments  of  Mrs. 


32  A    DROOPING     BUD     REVIVES. 

Jay  and  Mrs.  Jones,  and  wished  to  know  when  the  funeral 
was  to  take  place."  This  done,  Mrs.  Jones  hurried  back  to 
Mrs.  Jay  with  the  information,  and  the  assurance  that  her 
own  carriage  should  be  in  attendance  also  :  and  then  made 
some  dozen  other  calls,  in  the  course  of  each  of  which,  she 
introduced  the  subject  of  "  poor  Mr.  Hill's  death,"  and  vol- 
unteered the  information  that  "  she  and  Mrs.  Jay  intended  to 
send  their  carriages  to  attend  the  funeral  at  four  o'clock  that 
afternoon."  The  consequence  was  that  some  really  fashion- 
able, and  a  host  of  would-be-fashionable  people,  sent  their 
equipages  to  follow  the  remains  of  the  florist  to  his  last  rest- 
ing place. 

Hetty's  English  taste  was  not  displeased  with  the  ceremo- 
nial cortege ;  and  if  she  needed  truer  sympathy,  she  had  it 
in  the  tears  of  the  few  plain  friends  who  wept  with  her,  over 
her  father's  grave. 


IV. 

f  ttftffltfttefe   JfI0toer«. 


So  oft  the  doing  of  God's  will 

Our  foolish  will  undoeth! 
And  yet  what  idle  dream  breaks  ill, 

Which  morning  light  subdueth; 
And  who  would  murmur  and  misdoubt, 
When  God's  great  sunrise  finds  him  out?" 

ELIZABETH  BARRETT  BROWNING. 

TT  was  the  evening  of  the  day  after  the  funeral.  George 
•*•  and  Hetty  sat  in  the  little  room  behind  the  green-house. 
They  could  not  bear  to  light  the  lamp,  for  that  used  to  be 
the  signal  for  reading  the  paper  to  him  who  once  occupied 
the  vacant  arm-chair.  But  the  moon  shone  in  softly.  The 
green-house  was  full  of  the  pearly  light  ;  each  twig  and  leaf 
stood  out  distinctly  ;  and  the  air  was  loaded  with  perfume. 

"Hetty,"  said  George,  gently  breaking  the  wistful  silence 
with  which  they  had  been*  gazing  on  those  plants,  yet  so 
fresh  from  the  touch,  and  redolent  of  the  memory  of  the 
good  florist  ;  "  Hetty,  I  have  n't  told  you  the  news.  I  have 
been  offered  an  eligible  place  in  the  country  —  a  tannery 
where  I  can  carry  on  business  for  myself.  Shall  I  ac- 
cept it?" 

"  Oh  !  George,  how  I  shall  miss  you  !"  was  her  vehement 
reply. 

"  Can  you  get  along  without  me  ?"  he  asked,  emphasizing 

the  pronouns. 

2* 


34  TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS. 

"  Oh  !  George,  I  have  tried  to  think  and  plan,  but  I  can 
not.  I  never  thought  and  planned  so  much  in  all  my  life 
before,  as  I  have  to  day.  But  it 's  no  use.  I  can 't  see  my 
way.  My  only  comfort  was  that  I  had  you  to  tell  me  what 
to  do,  and  help  me  to  do  it.  Oh,  how  can  I  do  without 
you !"  She  ended  with  a  sob,  and  the  sob  was  succeeded  by 
such  a  violent  fit  of  weeping  as  she  had  not  indulged  before. 
The  extent  of  her  misery,  the  loneliness  and  helplessness  of 
her  orphanage,  in  a  strange  land,  were  made  too  painfully 
apparent  by  the  possibility  of  the  removal  of  the  only  arm 
on  which  she  could  now  lean.  All  power  of  self-command 
was  lost.  Sho  bowed  under  the  sense  of  her  bereavement  as 
a  wilted  flower  vender  a  burning  sun. 

George  moved  his  chair  close  to  hers,  and  put  his  arm 
around  her. 

"  Hetty,"  he  whispered,  but  she  took  no  heed — "  oh, 
Hetty,  Hetty  !" — but  she  did  not  answer,  and  he  cried  too. 
Hetty  at  once  became  more  quiet,  and  the  violence  of  her 
sobs  was  succeeded  by  a  gentler  flood  of  tears.  "  Hetty," 
said  George,  again,  "  can  you  not  think  of  God  ?  look  to 
Jesus ;  trust  in  Him  !" 

"  Perhaps  so,  George,  if  you  '11  stay  and  help  me." 

"  Hetty,"  said  George,  earnestly  and  tenderly,  "  you  must 
not  trust  in  human  help.  '  Cease  ye  from  man,  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils ;  for  wherein  is  he  to  be  accounted 
of?' " 

But  Hetty  wept  on,  and  George  continued  repeating  tho 
words  of  Scripture.  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Cursed  be  tho 
man  that  trusteth  in  man,  and  maketh  flesh  his  arm,  and 
whose  heart  departeth  from  the  Lord.  For  he  shall  be  like 
the  heath  in  the  desert,  and  shall  not  see  when  good  cometh  ; 


TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS. 


35 


but  shall  inhabit  the  parched  places  in  the  wilderness,  in  a 
salt  land  and  not  inhabited.  Blessed  is  the  man  that  trust- 
eth  in  the  Lord,  and  whose  hope  the  Lord  is.  For  he  shall 
be  as  a  tree  planted  by  the  waters,  and  that  spreadeth  out 
her  roots  by  the  river,  and  shall  not  die  when  heat  cometh, 
but  her  leaf  shall  be  green ;  and  shall  not  be  careful  in  the 
year  of  drought ;  neither  shall  cease  from  yielding  fruit." 
He  was  silent  again  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  he  added 
the  injunction  of  the  Apostle :  "  Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but 
in  every  thing  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving 
let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto  God.  And  the  peace 
of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  shall  keep  your 
hearts  and  minds  through  Christ  Jesus." 

The  extraordinary  voice  of  George  Hughes  was  never 
more  perfectly  modulated,  and  its  soft,  musical,  assuring 
tones  would  have  conveyed  the  sentiment  to  Hetty's  heart, 
even  if  the  precious  words  had  been  Greek  instead  of  Eng- 
lish. 

George  waited  till  she  was  composed,  and  then  he  took 
her  hand  in  his.  "  Hetty,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  I  made 
you  feel  badly.  You  did  not  understand  me :  I  asked  if 
you  could  get  along  without  me  I  I  now  ask,  Hetty,  if  you 
think  that  I  can  get  along  without  you  ?" 

"  Oh  !  George,  I  do  believe  you  will  miss  me.  How  self- 
ish I  am.  I  never  thought  of  you,  and  what  you  would 
suffer  in  going  to  a  strange  place,  away  from  all  your 
friends." 

"  But  must  I  go  away  from  *  all  my  friends  ?' "  George 
asked.  "  May  I  not  take  one  of  them  with  me  ? — the  one  I 
love  best  of  all.  Will  you  let  me  go  away  all  alone,  to  an 
empty  house,  with  no  Hetty  to  take  care  of  it  and  me  ?  no 


36  TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS 

Hetty  to  talk  to  and  read  with?  and  help  me  along  in  be- 
ginning life  for  myself  ?  will  you,  Hetty,  will  you  ?" 

His  manner  spoke  his  wishes  more  plainly  than  his  words. 
There  was  some  surprise  in  her  face,  as  she  looked  in  his, 
while  he  was  speaking.  But  when  he  waited  for  her  an- 
swer, it  came  without  attempt  to  disguise  the  willing  heart- 
iness of  her  consent,  and  the  real  pleasure  she  felt  at  this  un- 
expected way  of  arranging  her  affairs.  She  was  so  conscious 
at  that  moment,  though  it  was  for  the  first  time,  that  she 
loved  him  dearly  ;  and  so  sure,  that  he  loved  her ;  and  they 
were  so  necessary  to  each  other  ;  it  was  so  right,  so  proper 
for  her  to  belong  to  him,  that  she  could  not,  if  she  had  tried, 
have  assumed  an  air  of  diffidence  or  hesitation.  Cordially 
she  gave  herself  to  him ;  and  brightly  the  sun  of  her  hap- 
piness shone  out  from  the  dark  clouds,  with  only  some  sor- 
rowful tears,  that  her  father  could  not  give  his  blessing. 
Long  they  sat  and  talked  of  what  was  to  be  done.  None 
of  the  furniture  in  that  house,  so  dear  to  her,  should  be 
sold  ;  they  would  need  it  in  the  new  home.  And  some  few 
of  the  flowers,  favorite  ones  at  least,  should  be  spared  from 
the  auctioneer's  hammer. 

"  George,"  she  said,  when  these  business  arrangements 
were  concluded,  "  I  am  not  half  good  enough  for  you." 

"  You  did  not  always  think  so,  Hetty ;"  he  answered, 
archly. 

"  Oh,  I  was  a  foolish  young  thing  then,"  she  said,  "  and 
you  had  not  taught  me  how  to  think  of  myself  and  others, 
as  you  have  since,  George." 

"  Well,  Hetty,  I  tell  you  what  I  think,"  said  George  with 
animation,  "  I  think  I  am  none  too  good  for  you,  and  you 
are  none  too  good  for  me ;  but  we  are  just  suited  to  each 


TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS.  87 

other.     We  were  made  for  each  other  !     I  always  knew  it, 
and  was  always  sure  it  would  come  to  this." 

The  entrance  of  Lucy  Hughes,  who  came  to  spend  the 
night  with  Hetty,  ended  the  conference.  When  the  light 
was  struck,  Lucy  was  astonished  to  see  the  face  so  recently 
overshadowed  with  hopeless  sadness  now  smiling  serenely, 
and  her  brother's  grave  countenance  radiant  with  happiness. 
But  Hetty  made  her  way  quickly  out  of  the  room,  and 
left  George  at  his  leisure  to  give  the  necessary  explanation. 

With  pious  care  George  and  Hetty  strewed  the  florist's 
grave  with  the  spoils  of  the  green-house.  Hetty  chose 
those  plants  he  loved  best,  and  some  because  he  had  last 
tended  them  and  they  were  associated  with  his  last  words 
and  last  smiles.  Some  she  planted  in  full  bloom,  though 
she  knew  they  would  die,  and  others  so  choice  and  delicate 
that  they  must  perish  for  want  of  care,  but  they  would  first 
shed  their  sweetness  over  him  who  once  delighted  in  them. 
Others  there  were,  as  many  as  could  be,  which  neither 
drought  nor  cold  would  kill,  to  lend  their  beauty  and  at- 
tract the  eye  of  the  stranger  to  that  spot  when  "  his  chil- 
dren" were  far  away. 

At  last  her  work  in  the  old  house  was  done.  For  two 
days  she  had  been  busy  packing,  or  bundling  together,  all 
kinds  of  household  stuff,  in  all  kinds  of  boxes,  trunks,  bags, 
and  wrappers  of  all  shapes.  Sometimes  tears  had  started, 
and  she  had  been  lost  in  tender  reveries  over  mementoes 
of  old  times — but  she  was  to  part  with  none  of  them,  only 
to  treasure  them  up  in  her  own  new  home.  But  the  old 
house  !  that  she  could  not  take  with  her !  She  stood  in  the 
little  sitting-room  with  her  bonnet  and  shawl  on.  How 


58  TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS. 

miserable  it  looked,  denuded  of  its  furniture.  Her  eye 
turned  to  the  glass  door  that  opened  into  the  green-house. 
There  nothing  had  yet  been  disturbed.  What  %  beautiful, 
gorgeous  scene  it  presented.  The  western  sun  was  hidden 
from  the  sitting-room,  by  the  tall  houses  on  the  next  square, 
but  his  gleaming  rays  streamed  in  at  the  further  end  of  the 
green-house,  and  grew  more  brilliant  as  they  rested  on  the 
flowers.  The  effect  was  heightened  by  the  dim  twilight  and 
deserted  aspect  of  the  room  in  which  she  stood.  The  one 
all  gloom,  the  other  intensely  joyous.  Canaries,  in  their 
round  cages,  were  singing  their  blithest  songs ;  and  every  leaf 
and  blossom  was  dancing  in  the  vivid  brightness.  Yellow 
jasmines,  the  crimson  metrosideros,  blue  lobelias,  and  the  bell- 
shaped  maurartdia,  purple  and  white,  kissed  each  other  as 
they  swung  backward  and  forward  from  the  upper  lights, 
or  drooped  over  the  little  moss-covered  baskets  from  which  • 
they  were  pendent.  Camelliais,  red  and  white,  azalias,  pink, 
white,  yellow  and  purpjp,  cactuses,  with  silken  tassels,  fuch- 
sias, trembling  on  their  stems,  geraniums  with  clustering 
flowers,  myrtles,  lemons,  and  oranges,  with  their  glossy 
leaves,  a  few  roses — those  of  the  most  delicate  beauty  and 
highest  culture,  that  only  now  rewarded  the  care  of  the  long 
winter — and  crowds  of  heaths,  mignonettes,  heliotropes, 
French  violets,  and  other  little  plants,  modestly  blooming  in 
the  foremost  ranks — all  mingled  their  odors  in  one  over- 
powering fragrance,  and  blended  their  various  shapes  and 
hues  into  one  mass  of  brightest  coloring. 

Happy  fancies  played  about  the  heart  of  the  flower  girl. 
"  Such,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  is  the  happy  future  into  which 
1  am  about  to  pass  ;  I  shall  step  from  under  the  shadow  into 
the  light ;  and  such,  only  more  glorious,  is  the  home  father 


TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS.  39 

has  exchanged  for  this.  He  left  this  home  sad  and  gloomy 
enough,"  and  she  glanced  around  the  empty,  dusky,  sitting- 
room,  "  but  oh  !  how  full  of  joy,  beauty,  and  splendor  must 
be  the  Paradise  of  God  !" 

She  heard  George's  voice.  Its  liquid  tones  melted  into 
the  scene,  and  formed  a  part  of  it.  He  was  calling  her  from 
darkness  to  light,  from  sorrow  to  joy.  But  his  time  was 
precious  now,  attending  to  her  affairs  and  his  own  too,  and 
only  waiting  to  gather  a  generous  bouquet  for  his  mother, 
and  select  the  cage  and  bird  she  was  to  give  to  Lucy,  she 
hastened  to  join  him. 

Instead  of  Lucy's  coming  to  stay  with  her,  she  was  to  go 
and  stay  with  Lucy.  She  was  leaving  the  old  home,  but  the 
sunlight  in  the  green-house  had  crept  into  her  thoughts,  and 
lighted  them  with  beaming  hopes,  and  with  a  buoyant  heart 
and  light  step,  she  accompanied  George  to  his  mother's 
house. 

George  Hughes  succeeded  in  selling  Mr.  Hill's  unexpired 
lease  of  the  house  and  garden  for  a  good  sum.  The  flower 
auction  brought  extraordinary  prices.  Mrs.  Jay  and  Mrs. 
Ephraim  Jones  had  put  their  imprimatur  on  every  thing  be- 
longing to  "Hill  the  florist."  To  be  at  the  auction,  to  pos- 
sess some  of  the  plants,  and  to  bid  high  for  the  sake'  of  the 
orphan  daughter,  was,  for  the  time,  essential  to  support  a 
claim  to  a  position  in  fashionable  society.  The  street  was 
lined  with  carriages,  and  the  green-house  crowded  with 
beauty,  pretension  and  extravagance.  It  became  evident, 
indeed,  that  Mrs.  Jay  and  Mrs.  Jones  expected  some  little 
reduction  in  their  bills,  some  small  personal  favors,  in  con- 
sideration of  their  regard  to  Mr.  Hill,  and  all  that  they  had 
done  for  his  daughtei  But  Cicorgc  Hughes  had  his  own 


40  TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS. 

way  of  meeting  such  meannesses,  and  exacted  all  that  was 
just,  more  tenaciously  because  of  the  contemptible  littleness 
that  would  withhold  it. 

After  the  auction  Hetty  visited  the  old  place  once  more. 
It  was  stripped  now  of  every  thing,  and  the  men  were  carry- 
ing away  the  very  sashes  of  the  green-house.  She  could 
only  ramble  through  the  garden  and  wonder  if  such  and 
such  flowers  would  come  up  again,  or  if  the  weeds  would 
smother  them ;  and  she  sighed  to  think  how  much  she 
loved  was  buried  in  the  earth,  never  to  gladden  her  sight 
again. 

For  four  weeks  George  was  away  ;  then  he  returned :  and 
there  was  a  quiet  wedding  in  his  mother's  parlor.  Lucy 
was  bridesmaid,  and  her  little  brother  Charlie  was  grooms- 
man, with  a  white  ribbon  in  his  button-hole.  George  and 
Hetty  bade  all  good-by,  and  before  it  was  evening  they  came 
to  the  old  tannery,  that  stood  by  the  little  babbling  brook, 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  village  of  Cedarville.  This  was 
their  home. 

Hetty  was  astonished  to  find  how  much  George  had  ac- 
complished without  her,  and  how  much  he  had  done  to 
please  her.  Instead  of  a  very  few  of  her  favorite  flowers  on 
the  window  seats,  he  had  enclosed  with  glass  sashes  the 
south  side  of  the  kitchen,  and  had  opened  a  door  there  into 
the  kitchen,  which  was  also  to  be  their  sitting-room,  and  in 
that  diminutive  conservatory  stood  nearly  every  plant  she 
had  ever  expressed  any  particular  interest  in  or  love  for. 
There  was  even  the  tall  japonica-tree,  and  one  fine  lemon, 
besides  precious  English  daisies,  such  as  grew  on  her  own 
mother's  grave,  under  the  shadow  of  the  ivy-clad  church. 
The  furniture  too,  how  natural  it  looked  ;  how  much  like 


TRANSPLANTED     FLOWERS.  41 

home.  Hetiy  questioned  with  herself  whether  it  were  in- 
deed only  that  morning  that  George  and  she  were  married. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  they  had  always  been  married,  and 
this  had  always  been  their  home  ! 


V. 

Jl  $0$*-btt&  anfr  a  |0ung  f  feisth. 

"  I  've  often  wondered,  honest  Luath, 
"What  sort  of  life  poor  dogs  like  yon  have ; 
An'  when  the  gentry's  life  I  saw, 
What  way  poor  bodies  lived  ava." 

ROBERT  BURNS. 

tE  village  of  Cedarville  bad  grown  up,  or  rather  sprung 
up,  for  it  was  never  known  to  grow  at  some  remote  point 
of  antiquity ;  perhaps  the  beauty  of  the  site  had  had  some 
generative  quality,  and  its  twenty  or  thirty  houses  had 
emerged  spontaneously,  full-grown,  just  where  the  hand  of  an 
artist  would  have  placed  them.  Having  once  emerged, 
however,  they  had  been  kept  in  existence  and  tolerable  re- 
pair, partly  by  the  good  condition  of  the  farms  in  the  country 
lying  around,  and  chiefly  by  the  neighborhood  of  the  Lee 
estate,  by  whose  combined  patronage  were  sustained  one 
minister  and  one  doctor,  one  tavern,  one  store,  and  one  black- 
smithery,  one  tailor,  and  shoemaker,  one  milliner,  one  dress- 
maker, and  one  of  every  other  kind  of  artisan  essential  to 
the  entity  of  a  village.  Besides  these,  there  were  several 
small  fanners,  whose  possessions  ran  back  from  a  narrow 
frontage,  up  and  down  the  hill,  on  either  side  of  the  one 
street. 

That  one  street  was  no  straight  line,  pointing  due  north 
and  south,  drawn  by  chain  and  needle,  and  stalking  prag- 


A    ROSE-BUD     AND    A    YOUNG     THISTLE.  43 

matically  over  every  man's  property  without  asking  leave,  or 
license.  It  was  no  segment  of  a  turnpike  road,  stretched 
'  taut  and  tight,'  over  the  country,  in  defiance  of  the  pre- 
vailing curve  of  beauty,  and  looking  as  prim  and  awkward 
as  a  village  girl  in  stays  among  the  rustic  graces. 

The  Cedarville  street  was  as  ductile  as  a  river ;  undulating 
up  and  down,  and  round  about  the  knolls  and  eminences  that 
thrust  themselves  out  in  all  sorts  of  irregularities,  on  those 
sloping  hill-sides.  It  was  a  grass-grown  street,  save  where 
the  carriage-tracks  marked  the  line  of  travel  with  a  thread 
of  brown  enameling  on  a  green  ground,  winding  about  to 
avoid  the  rough  places,  meekly  turning  the  corners  of  large 
gray  boulders  that  protruded  themselves  in  its  path,  or  sway- 
ing deferentially  to  the  one  side  or  the  other  of  majestic 
trees,  that  grew  incontinently  in  the  verdant  bosom  of  the 
street,  usurpers  of  the  right  of  way,  or  circling  around  the 
clumps  of  cedars,  which  survived,  here  and  there,  to  attest 
the  propriety  of  the  village  name — mementoes  of  a  growth 
that  once  extensively  covered  the  face  of  the  neighboring  hills. 

Near  the  center  of  the  village,  and  on  the  highest  point 
of  ground  within  its  limited  extent,  stood  the  old  stone 
church.  Stone  walls,  moss-covered,  inclosed  its  graveyard, 
and  swept  with  a  gentle  curve  from  either  side  of  the  church 
outward  to  the  street.  A  prim  semicircle  of  poplars,  some 
twelve  feet  from  the  stone  walls,  formed  the  other  side  of  a 
carriage-drive,  up  to  the  very  doors  of  the  church. 

Next  to  the  graveyard,  on  the  south  side,  toward  Truro, 
was  the  old  parsonage,  directly  on  the  street,  protected  from 
it  only  by  the  descent  of  a  little  knoll,  and  a  primitive  well, 
which  rested  one  end  of  its  long  wooden  beam,  heavy  with 
a  big  stone  bound  fast  by  iron  clamps,  on  the  very  spot 


44  A     ROSE-BUD 

where  the  road,  if  straight,  would  have  run.  A  long  and  low 
8tory-and-a-half  house,  built  of  shingles,  the  oldest  and  least 
cared  for  house  in  the  village,  broken-backed,  as  the  down- 
ward curve  in  the  roof  testified,  crazy-looking  and  dilapidated, 
was  the  parsonage.  Here  lived,  in  single  blessedness  and  un- 
complaining, nay,  cheerful  discomfort,  good,  modest,  sensible, 
worthy  Mr.  Poole.  Did  any  one  suspect  that  the  brightest 
punlight  in  the  village  streamed  from  the  neglected  old  par- 
sonage, and  had  its  particular  source  in  the  quaint  little  study, 
where  the  good  pastor,  with  such  light  from  without  as  could 
get  in  at  the  diminutive,  cracked  panes  of  the  long,  narrow 
windows,  communed  with  God,  and  gathered  things,  new 
and  old,  from  the  Lord's  treasury  ? 

Following  the  road  up  in  the  direction  of  Truro,  Steve 
Ball's  blacksmith  shop,  and  small  stone  house,  Mr.  Slater's 
store,  and  whitely  painted  residence  on  one  side,  and  the 
pretty  school-house,  and  Dr.  Lowe's  grave-looking  abode  on 
the  other  side,  were  the  most  noticeable  objects. 

Directly  opposite  the  church  was  the  best  and  the  only 
modern  house  in  the  village,  now  uninhabited.  It  went  by 
the  name  of  Bedminster  House,  because  built  and  owned  by 
a  Mr.  Bedminster ;  who,  having  acquired  some  property  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  fancied  life  in  the  country ;  but  after 
a  year  or  two  in  the  quietest  of  all  quiet  villages,  lost  his 
fancy,  shut  up  the  house,  and  resumed  the  respectable  busi- 
ness of  retail  grocer  in  the  city.  The  house  stood  some  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  street,  and  was  almost  shut  out  from 
sight  by  ornamental  trees  and  shrubbery,  in  the  selection  and 
arrangement  of  which,  Mr.  Bedminster  had  secured,  for  a 
consideration,  the  taste  of  a  celebrated  horiculturist. 

Following  down  the  road  from  Truro,  past  the  church  and 


ANDAYO  UN  G     THISTLE.  45 

Bedminster  House,  you  came  by  a  gradual  descent  to  a 
rivulet,  that  murmured  across  the  road,  and  went  winding 
about  the.  fields  on  the  other  side,  till  it  found  its  way,  first, 
into  the  big  mill-pond,  and  then,  in  a  fuller  stream,  to  the 
broad  river  in  the  far,  far  distance.  By  this  rivulet, 

"A  trotting  burnie  wimpling  through  the  ground, 
Its  channel  peebles,  shining,  smooth,  an'  round," 

stood  the  tannery.  The  tan-pits,  and  the  sheds,  and  wooden 
frames  for  stretching  skins,  and  the  large  unpainted  building 
in  which  they  were  dressed,  were  on  the  south  side  of  the 
rivulet,  among  a  grove  of  willows,  far  back  from  the  street, 
and  a  lane  led  up  to  them.  The  modest  two-story  house, 
which  George  Hughes  and  his  bride  had  transformed  into 
love  in  a  cottage,  stood  near  the  street,  on  the  rising  ground, 
the  north  side  of  the  rivulet,  with  its  kitchen  on  the  end 
nearest  to  it,  and  a  little  stone  dairy  further  back,  directly  in 
the  rivulet's  path.  There  was  a  gate  by  the  brook,  and  a 
path  running  diagonally  from  the  gate  to  the  kitchen  door, 
and  another  path  from  the  door  of  the  house,  to  the  gate 
directly  in  front  of  it.  George  Hughes  had  made  still  an- 
other path  along  the  pebbly  brink  of  the  rivulet  to  the 
dairy,  and  thence  to  the  back  door  of  the  kitchen,  and  along 
all  these  paths  he  had  dug  up  the  ground  a  yard  wide  for 
flowers. 

Beyond  the  tannery,  and  on  the  south  side  of  the  street, 
was  Deacon  Hayes'  ample  stone  house,  and  stretching  back 
from  both  sides  of  the  street  his  well-cultivated  farm.  Further 
on,  were  the  smaller  dwellings  of  the  tailor,  and  the  shoe- 
maker. Where  the  road  forked,  and  one  branch  led  to  the 
mills,  stood  Tim  Whittaker's  tavern ;  and  beyond  that,  there 


46  A     ROSE-BUD 

were  only  three  or  four  houses  before  you  were  out  of  the 
village. 

We  have  said  that  Cedarville  had  its  one  shoemaker :  and 
so,  strictly  speaking,  it  had.  Yet,  just  beyond  the  village,  in 
the  opposite  direction  from  Truro,  there  was  another,  duly 
announced  by  his  sign-board,  as  "James  Stryker,  Fashion- 
able Boot  and  Shoemaker." 

That  James  Stryker,  "fashionable  boot  and  shoemaker," 
had  no  business  in  Cedarville,  was  emphatically  true.  lie 
had  learned  his  trade  with  the  village  shoemaker,  fallen  in 
love  with  the  only  child  of  a  widow,  and,  when  the  mother 
died,  married  the  daughter  and  took  possession  of  her 
inheritance.  Having  thus  got  a  house,  entertaining  no 
speculative  thoughts  of  selling  it  and  seeking  his  fortune 
elsewhere,  he  at  once  settled  himself,  put  out  his  sign,  and 
applied  his  energies  to  such  work,  chiefly  in  the  way  of  cob- 
bling old  shoes,  as  came  to  him.  James  Stryker  was  not 
ambitious,  and  cobbled  on,  contented  with  his  lot. 

The  house  Mr.  Stryker  had  married  into  was  within  ten  feet 
of  the  road,  a  story-and-a-half  wooden  tenement,  with  a  dimin- 
utive kitchen  attached ;  and,  attached  to  the  kitchen,  a  pigmy 
shop,  once  a  shed,  till  Mr.  Stryker's  fertile  genius  boarded  up 
the  sides,  and  inserted  in  them  three  small  windows.  The 
house  had  no  superfluity  in  the  way  of  hall  or  entry.  It  was 
one  room  square ;  the  stairs  to  the  little  loft  above,  ran  up 
one  side  of  the  room,  the  front  door  opened,  when  it  opened 
at  all,  which  was'  seldom,  into  this  room  ;  and  in  this  room, 
one  window  with  pale  blue,  unglazed  paper  hangings,  kept 
solitary  watch  over  the  road,  and  two  windows  with  green 
paper  hangings,  looked  out  on  the  hills  behind,  where  the 
high-post  bedstead  that  stood  against  one  of  them  did  not 


AND    A    YOUNG    THISTLE.  47 

prevent  the  looking  out.  Mr.  Stryker's  residence  was  painted 
white  in  front,  and  red  every  where  else.  The  garden  ran 
along  by  the  road,  on  the  side  furthest  from  the  kitchen. 
The  front  yard  was  unornamented,  save  by  a  ragged  group 
of  lilacs,  a  chance  growth  of  weeds  and  grass,  and  two  or 
three  hap-hazard,  zig-zag  paths.  A  well-worn  paling  marked 
the  extent  of  Mr.  Stryker's  territories,  and  bore  evidences  of 
an  occasional  coat  of  white-washing,  which  was  washed  off 
almost  as  fast  as  it  was  washed  on.  _, 

Here '  lived  Jim  Stryker,  the  son  of  James  Stryker, 
"  fashionable  boot  and  shoemaker" ;  what  could  he  ever  have 
to  do  with  Nellie  Lee,  who  lived  in  the  noble  mansion  at  the 
other  end  of  the  village  ? 

For  six  years  they  had  lived  within  sight  of  the  same 
church  steeple,  without  seeing  each  other:  at  least,  Nellie 
never  recollected  having  seen  Jim  Stryker,  till  one  morning, 
when  she  was  between  six  and  seven,  and  Jim  might  be  some 
fourteen  years  of  age.  Nellie  had  that  morning  ventured 
further  unaccompanied  (Prince  was  with  her,  to  be  sure,  but 
he  was  nobody  for  protection),  than  ever  before.  She  had 
come  down  to  the  village  by  the  shortest  way,  had  passed 
through  its  one  long  street  and  advanced  into  the  country 
beyond  as  far  as  Mr.  James  Stryker's.  She  was  skipping 
along,  just  as  she  pleased,  with  her  bonnet  in  her  hand,  and 
her  flaxen  curls  blowing  about  in  the  sunlight,  when  Jim 
Stryker's  ugly  dog  set  up  a  barking  at  her.  Jim  Stryker 
himself  came  out  of  the  house  to  silence  the  dog ;  his  red 
hair  stood  straight  up  from  a  narrow,  but  rather  high  fore- 
head ;  his  face  was  covered  with  freckles,  where  it  was  not 
burned  too  red  with  the  sun  for  the  freckles  to  show  them- 
selves ;  his  gray  eyes  were  small  and  looked  savagely  out 


48 


A     ROSE-BUD 


from  eyelids  terminated  by  invisible  lashes ;  his  pantaloona 
of  coarse,  blue  stuff,  were  hitched  on  one  side,  by  a  single 
suspender,  eked  out  with  a  leather  string,  over  a  ragged 
shirt ;  his  feet  were  bare  and  dirty. 

Jim  Stryker  called  the  dog  inside  of  the  gate,  and  when  he 
was  silenced,  took  to  growling  himself.  "  She  had  better  be 
about  her  business,"  he  said ;  "  the  dog  would  leave  her 
alone  if  she  left  the  dog  alone."  Nellie  did  not  like  his  rude- 
ness at  all :  she  was  not  frightened  by  it,  she  only  wondered 
at  it  as  something  new  and  strange  in  her  experience.  She 
thought  she  liked  the  dog's  master  less  th'an  she  liked  the 
dog:  and  she  thought  that  that  house,  was  a  place  where 
none  but  such  a  boy,  and  such  a  dog,  would  care  to  live. 
She  never  said  a  word  to  Jim  Stryker,  but  she  called  Prince, 
and  turned  and  walked  away  quite  demurely.  She  put  her 
bonnet  on  her  head,  and  did  not  run  or  skip,  but  kept  think- 
ing about  Jim  Stryker  and  his  dog,  and  their  house. 

Nellie  walked  on  till  she  came  to  the  little  brook.  There 
she  stopped.  The  rippling  water,  the  round  stones,  and  the 
little  killies,  quite  drove  out  of  her  mind  Jim  Stryker  and 
his  dog  and  their  house.  She  found  it  very  amusing  to  walk 
over  the  big  stones,  instead  of  the  bridge.  She  tried  to  make 
Prince  imitate  her,  but  he  would  leap  over  at  a  bound,  and 
was  too  dainty  to  wet  even  the  soles  of  his  feet. 

"  Take  care,  little  girl,  or  you  will  slip  in,"  said  a  pleasanl 
voice. 

It  was  such  a  bright,  rosy,  smiling  face  that  looked  down 

upon  her  over  the  paling,  that  Nellie  had  a  great  mind  to 

*"  *  ask  whose  it  was.     And  it  was  such  a  bright,  fair,  smiling 

face  that  looked  up  at  the  rosy,  one,  that  the  rosy  t'ace  could 

not  help  asking  the  fair  one,  whose  it  was. 


A  KD    A    YOUNG     THISTLE.  49 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  asked  the  rosy  face. 

"  Helen  Lee ;  they  call  me  '  Nellie.'  " 

"May  I  call  you 'Nellie?'" 

"  To  be  sure  you  may.     But  what  shall  I  call  you  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Letitia  Hill — oh,  no,  Hughes,  I  mean. 
They  used  to  call  me  '  Hetty,'  so  my  name  is  something  like 
yours." 

"  Hetty  and  Nellie,"  repeated  Nellie,  "  Hetty  and  Nellie. 
Is  n't  that  funny  ?"  and  she  laughed  as  if  it  were  an  irresist- 
ible joke.  "  But  why  did  you  say  that  your  name  was  Hill, 
when  it 's  Hughes  ?  Don't  you  know  your  own  name  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  and  the  rosy  face  grew  rosier,  "  I  was  only  mar- 
ried yesterday,  and  I  am  not  used  to  my  new  name  yet." 

"  Only  married  yesterday !"  and  Nellie  laughed  as  if  that 
was  the  funniest  of  all  jokes.  "  Why  then  you  are  a  bride, 
and  ought  to  receive  calls.  May  I  come  in  and  call  upon  you  3" 

"  Yes,  indeed ;"  and  Hetty  opened  the  gate  to  let  her  little 
visitor  in. 

Nellie  met  her  with  an  air  of  mock  gravity,  and  courtesy- 
ing  very  low  and  speaking  very  demurely,  she  said : 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Hetty  Hughes  ?     I  wish  you  joy." 

Her  salutation  was  returned  with  proper  etiquette ;  and 
then  both  laughed  outright. 

"  What  kind  of  flowers  are  you  planting,  Mrs.  Hughes  1" 
asked  Nellie  ;  for  that  lady  had  a  trowel  in  hand,  and  there 
were  roots  and  papers  of  seeds,  and  bundles  of  cuttings 
strewed  along  the  paths. 

"  All  kinds.     These  are  violets  here ;  double  violets,  sweet- 
er than  the  common  ones.     Did  you  ever  see  any  ?" 
"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Nellie. 
"  Do  you  like  flowers  3"  asked  Mrs.  Hughes. 
3 


50  A     ROSE-BUD 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Nellie,  giving  strong  emphasis  to  both  the 
interjection  and  affirmation.  "Here  is  one  our  gardener 
gave  me  this  morning.  He  said  it  was  like  me,"  and  she 
pulled  a  yellow  crocus  out  of  her  bosom. 

"  Why  did  he  say  that  was  like  you  ?" 

"  He  said  the  crocus  was  a  saucy  little  thing,  that  came 
up  laughing  and  bright  when  every  thing  else  looked  grave 
and  sober,  and  so  he  said  it  was  like  me.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  I  laugh  too  much.  Sister  Charlotte  says  I  would  be 
quite  pretty,  if  I  did  not  laugh  so  much." 

"  Does  she  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hughes  with  apparent  surprise. 

"Yes,"  answered  Nellie  innocently,  and  then  asked,  as  n 
new  thought  occurred  to  her,  "  Where  did  you  1m-,  Mrs. 
Hughes,  before  you  were  married  ?" 

"In  New  York,"  she  answered  ;  "  where  do  you  live  f 

"  I  live  at  Truro.     Do  you  know  where  that  is  3" 

"  Seems  to  me  I  have  heard  the  name  before,"  and  Mrs. 
Hughes  tried  to  recall  what  association  she  had  with  it. 
"  Is  it  far  from  here  ?" 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  is  just  on  the  hill.  Look,  you  can  see  the 
house  over  the  trees  up  there.  Do  you  like  being  married, 
Mrs.  Hughes  <" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  Would  you  like  to  be 
married  ?" 

"  I  should  like  it  if  brother  Robert  were  my  husband. 
He  was  manied  last  year.  Sister  Theresa  didn't  make  as 
pretty  a  bride  as  you,  though." 

Hetty  began  to  have  some  glimmering  remembrance  now 
of  when  she  had  heard  of  Truro.  "  What,"  she  asked 
quickly,  "  did  you  say  your  last  name  was,  Nellie  f '  , 

"  Lee,"  answered  Nellie. 


AND    A    YOUNG     THISTLE.  61 

"  Yes,  so  it  is,"  said  Hetty,  thoughtfully. 

"  Did  you  have  any  presents  when  you  were  marricv*  2" 
asked  Nellie  in  her  quick  way,  "  sister  Theresa  had  a  great 
many." 

Mrs.  Hughes  took  her  to  see  her  flowers.  "  Those  were 
her  bridal  presents,"  she  said. 

Nellie  thought  they  were  pretty;  but  queer  presents  to 
give  a  bride.  "  Sister  Theresa  had  jewels  of  all  sorts  and 
a  great  many  other  things  which  she  did  not  bring  with 
her  to  Truro."  Nellie  grew  animated  in  describing  Theresa 
Lee's  bijouterie ;  but  Hetty  Hughes  hardly  heard  her :  she 
was  taking  how  strange  it  was,  that  she  should  be  talking 
to  Robe^  Lee's  sister,  and  should  have  come  as  a  bride  to 
the  very  place  where  his  bride  had  come ;  but  she  envied 
that  bride  neither  her  costly  trinkets,  nor  her  handsome  hus- 
band. 

Nellie  was  so  pleased  with  the  English  daisies,  that  Mrs. 
Hughes  put  some  in  a  very  little  pot,  and  the  child  scampered 
away  with  them  to  put  them  in  her  own  corner  in  her 
father's  green  house,  till  it  should  be  warm  enough  to  trans- 
plant them  into  her  own  little  garden. 

The  very  first  Sunday  after  Hetty  Hughes  came  to  the 
tannery,  and  Nellie  Lee  had  scraped  acquaintance  with  her, 
it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Poole  urged  upon  his  parishioners 
the  duty  of  sending  their  children  to  the  Sunday  school. 
He  said  that  all  the  baptized  children  of  the  church  be- 
longed to  the  one  body ;  were  members  of  the  same  family ; 
were  equally  under  the  care  and  discipline  of  God's  house, 
and  should  be  associated  in  receiving  Christian  instruction ; 
that  in  the  Sunday  school  some  were  taught  what  they  never 


52  A     ROSE-BUD 

could  learn  at  home  ;  and  others  were  brought  under  pious 
influences,  which  were  not  necessarily  exerted  at  home,  or 
which,  at  least,  gave  additional  zest  and  force  to  parental  and 
domestic  training :  and  that  all  should  come,  if  for  no  other 
reason,  for  example's  sake,  and  for  the  purpose  of  lessening 
and  softening  the  lines  of  social  demarcation. 

Nellie  had  never  attended  Sunday-school ;  but  she  was  to 
go  now.  Jim  Stryker  was  to  go,  too  ;  Mr.  Poole  had  talked  to 
his  parents  about  it,  and  they  had  said  he  should.  So  that 
very  afternoon,  Nellie  Lee  found  herself  sitting  side  by  side, 
as  it  chanced,  on  the  same  bench,  with  Jim  Stryker,  waiting, 
with  other  new  scholars,  to  be  properly  distributed  among 
the  classes.  Nellie  recognized  Jim  Stryker,  and  wished  he  did 
not  sit  quite  so  close  to  her :  very  happy  she  was  when  Mr. 
Poole  led  her  away  from  the  uncomfortable  proximity ;  and 
happier  yet,  when  Mr.  Poole  consigned  her  to  the  care  of 
her  new  friend,  Mrs.  Hetty  Hughes,  who,  like  herself,  was 
there  for  the  first  time. 

If  Nellie  recognized  Jim  Stryker,  he  was  not  conscious  of 
her  presence.  Older  and  larger  than  most  of  the  scholars, 
he  felt  awkward  and  abashed :  he  thought  every  one  was 
looking  at  him,  and  did  not  dare  look  at  any  one.  Not  that 
Jim  was  troubled  with  modesty,  or  even  diffidence :  he  was 
rather  bold  and  self-confident,  and  after  that  first  day  was  as 
much  at  his  ease  in  the  Sunday-school  as  any  one. 

The  Sunday-school  met  in  the  pretty  school-house  near  the 
store.  The  classes  in  which  Hetty  and  Jim  were  placed,  sat 
on  opposite  benches  on  either  side  of  the  superintendent's 
desk,  not  ten  feet  apart.  If  either  looked  up  from  their  book 
they  were  sure  to  look  in  the  other's  face.  And  there  they 
looked  at  each  other,  without  ever  speaking,  Sunday  after 


AND    A    YOU  NO     THISTLE.  58 

Sunday,  till  they  became  used  to  it,  and  as  much  expected 
to  see  each  other  in  the  Sunday  school,  as  they  did  to  see 
their  teachers. 

Thus  Nellie  Lee  and  Jim  Stryker  grew  up  together  in  the 
same  village,  seeing  each  other  but  once  a  week,  seldom 
hearing  of  each  other,  never  exchanging  words:  one,  the 
child  of  wealth,  refinement  and  culture  ;  the  other,  the  asso- 
ciate of  ignorance  and  rudeness,  and  hardly  raised  above  suf- 
fering poverty ;  the  two  moving  in  circles  so  separate  and 
distinct,  that  all  intimacy,  and  even  possibility  of  connection 
seemed  for  ever  interdicted. 


VI. 

Ji»m0nb  Cut    giam0tt&. 

"He  speaks  plain  cannon,  fire,  and  smoke,  and  bounce; 
He  gives  the  bastinado  with  his  tongue; 
Our  ears  are  cndgel'd." 

SHAKSPEAKB. 

MR.  AMOS  GRAVES,  to  whose  class  in  the  Sunday- 
school  Jim  Stryker  was  assigned,  signified  his  inten- 
tion of  calling  upon  Jim's  parents  on  the  next  Saturday 
afternoon. 

The  expectation  of  this  visit  kept  the  Strykers  in  a  state 
of  nervous  excitability  during  the  rest  of  the  week ;  it  was  a 
fomenting  source  of  disquietude,  diffusing  itself  throughout 
the  whole  household  and  confusing  the  ordinary  routine 
of  domestic  operations  ;  it  hurried  the  washing  on  Monday, 
and  the  ironing  on  Tuesday,  and  set  the  scrubbing-brushes 
to  work  on  Thursday;  it  made  Jim  surly  and  Cinthy  reck- 
less, Scip  the  ugly  cur  snarlisb,  and  the  red,  sleepy,  swill- 
fed  cow  disposed  to  kick  at  milking ;  it  sharpened  the  im- 
patience of  Mrs.  Stryker's  voice,  and  silenced  the  lugubrious 
songs  with  which  Mr.  Stryker,  "  fashionable  boot  and  shoe- 
maker," was  wont  to  solace  the  hours  devoted  to  cobbling, 
and  it  plunged  that  gentleman  into  frequent  fits  of  abstract- 
ed reflection. 

How  an  expected  visit  from  Mr.  Graves,  who  would  stay, 
when  he  did  come,  only  a  few  minutes,  hardly  long  enough 


1)  I  A  M  0  N  1>     C  C  T     D  I  A  M  O  N  D  .  55 

to  observe  whether  "  things  were  to-rights,"  or  to-wrongs, 
could  mix  itself  up  in  all  the  household  "  chores"  and 
thoughts,  requires  for  its  explanation  some  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Graves  himself.  He  was  a  man  to  make  an  im- 
pression ;  a  visit  from  him  could  be  no  ordinary  affair ;  and 
a  visit  from  him,  formally  announced  a  week  beforehand, 
would  have  been  anticipated  with  trepidation  by  other  fam- 
ilies in  the  village,  more  used  to  Sunday-school  teachers 
than  were  the  Strykers. 

Mr.  Amos  Graves  ("  young  Mr.  Graves"  Cedarville  people 
called  him ;  they  called  him  so,  not  because  he  was  youth- 
ful either  in  years,  or  in  appearance,  but  because  he  was  a 
clerk  in  Slater's  store,  and  from  time  immemorial  juvenility 
had  been  a  supposititious  characteristic  of  clerkship  in  the 
Cedarville  store ;)  Mr.  Amos  Graves  was  pious.  His  piety 
stood  out  from  his  character  on  every  side  in  bold  relief; 
you  could  not  look  at  him  without  seeing  it,  nor  hear  him 
speak'  without  hearing  it.  His  black,  straight  hair,  his 
square,  exact  shoulders,  his  measured,  sedate  walk,  his  se- 
rious voice,  his  solemn  manners,  his  entire  innocence  of  the 
remotest  approach  to  hilarity  and  his  invariable  habit  of 
twisting  every  theme  of  conversation  into  a  means  of  re- 
ligious improvement,  all  testified,  that  through  and  through, 
from  his  heart's  core  outward  to  the  extremity  of  the  long 
forefinger  with  which  he  gesticulated,  Mr.  Graves  was  pious. 

Mr.  Amos  Graves  was  an  exotic  in  Cedarville.  He  had 
come  to  Cedarville  from  the  neighboring  town  of  Mont- 
gomery, where  he  had  served  a  long  apprenticeship,  and 
had  enjoyed  religious  privileges,  the  want  of  which  he  was 
ever  lamenting.  The  tone  of  piety  in  Cedarville  did  not  ac- 
cord with  his.  Mr.  Poole's  preaching  lacked  life  and  power. 


Otf  D  I  A  M  O  N  D     C  U  T     D  I  A  M  0  N  D  . 

There  was  little  alarming  or  arousing  in  his  ministrations. 
He  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  all  who  professed  to 
be  Christians,  were  Christians,  and  that  those  who  made  no 
profession,  were  almost  persuaded  to  be  Christians.  In- 
structive preaching  was  good  sometimes,  but  Mr.  Poole  was 
too  instructive. 

Mr.  Amos  Graves  was  not  a  saint,  the  good  old  ladies  of 
Cedarville  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding.  Neither  was  he 
a  hypocrite.  If  Steve  Ball,  the  blacksmith,  called  him  a 
hypocrite,  it  was  because  Steve  Ball  did  not  like  to  be  talked 
to  in  so  serious  a  way,  and  did  not  relish  Mr.  Graves  tee- 
total temperance  opinions,  and  did  not  have  very  clear  no- 
tions of  the  exact  definition  of  that  easily  misapplied  epithet 
"  a  hypocrite,"  and  was  not  ever  very  nice  and  accurate  in 
the  use  of  language.  Mr.  Graves,  whatever  Steve  Ball,  Tim 
Whittaker,  and  men  like  them  might  say,  was  a  good,  sin- 
cere man,  without  intellectual  force,  and  scant  of  common 
sense ;  and  his  associations  in  life  had  not  supplied  these 
natural  deficiencies,  or  rectified  an  innate  want  of  tact  and 
discrimination.  His  mind,  destitute  of  sentiment,  dwelt  upon 
the  more  salient  points  of  religion,  and  in  his  endeavor  to 
let  his  light  shine,  he  emulated  the  burning  brilliance  of  the 
sun,  forgetful  that  his  rush-light  could  not  shine  beyond  the 
limits  of  a  very  narrow  and  modest  illumination.  But  how- 
ever inopportune  or  offensive  might  be  the  pious  efforts  of 
"young  Mr.  Graves"  to  make  others  coed,  he  was  himself 
a  good  man ;  Mr.  Poole  said  so ;  Mr.  Poole  never  said  such 
things  lightly. 

Saturday  came.  Dinner  at  the  Strykers'  was  a  hurried 
meal  Through  the  whole  afternoon  a  constant  look-out 
was  maintained,  as  if  Mr.  Graves  could  leave  the  store  at  ao 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  57 

early  hour.  Mrs.  Stryker,  having  completely  "  done  up" 
her  work,  was  sadly  in  want  of  occupation,  and  indulged 
herself  in  such  maternal  and  conjugal  endearments  as  she 
was  accustomed  to  give  vent  to,  such  for  instance  as  the  fol- 
lowing : 

"  I  say,  Jim,  you  have  n't  washed  your  feet." 

"  I  say  I  have,"  was  the  surly  reply. 

"  You,  Cinthy,  you,  keep  off  that  'ere  gate  I  tell  you 
now  ;  if  you  do  break  them  hinges,  I  '11  give  you  a  walloping." 

"  Yes  'm,"  answered  Cinthy,  still  swinging  as  hard  as  ever, 
till  the  leather  hinges  creaked. 

"  James,"  speaking  to  her  husband,  "  hain't  you  finished 
them  slippers?  It's  jist  one  month  this  day  since  Sue 
Stokes  ordered  them.  And  there's  Tom  Spear  comes 
a'most  every  day  to  ask  for  hizzen,  till  I  'm  most  a  tired  to 
see,  or  answer  'm." 

These  episodes  were  varied  by  an  occasional  resort  to  the 
yellow-horn  comb,  that  lay  convenient  for  family  use,  on  the 
shelf  or  bracket  which  supported  the  broken  looking-glass 
in  its  cherry  frame  ;  and  Mrs.  Stryker  smoothed  her  golden 
locks  till  they  could  be  no  smoother. 

Mrs.  Stryker  was  a  tall,  bony,  red-haired,  energetic 
woman.  Mr.  Stryker  was  slow,  easy,  and  imperturbable. 
Cynthia,  their  youngest  child,  was  a  frightened-looking, 
heedless,  homely  creature,  some  ten  years  old.  Jim  took 
after  his  mother  in  looks  and  character.  He  was  not  like 
her,  impetuous,  nor  subject,  as  she  was,  to  fits  of  anger ;  he 
was  always  cross-grained  and  impracticable,  uniting  a  good 
share  of  his  father's  obstinacy  to  his  mother's  activity,  and 
having  a  dash  of  Cinthy's  timidity,  where  there  was  a  show 

of  power  or  cause  for  alarm. 

3* 


58  D  I  A  M  O  N  D     C  U  T     D  I  A  M  O  N  D  . 

After  a  week's  preparation,  when  at  last,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  Mr.  Graves  made  his  appearance,  the  family  were 
unprepared  for  his  reception.  Cinthy,  having  given  the  gate 
an  uncomfortable  hang  downward,  by  hanging  herself  upon 
it  the  whole  afternoon,  discovered  him  in  the  far  distance,  an- 
nounced his  approach,  and  straightway  hid  herself  on  the 
stairs  in  the  little  parlor.  Jim  marched,  whistling,  to  his 
usual  hiding-place,  the  cow-shed.  Mrs.  Stryker,  seized  with 
a  sudden  panic,  shut  the  door,  dragged  the  table  into  the 
middle  of  the  room,  filled  a  basin  with  water,  and,  when  Mr. 
Graves  knocked,  was  scouring  the  table  with  all  her  might. 
Mr.  Stryker  was  too  hard  at  work  on  Sue  Stokes'  slippers,  to 
be  supposed  to  hear  the  knock. 

Mr.  Graves  knocked.  Mrs.  Stryker  opened  the  door  half- 
way, and  stood  in  the  opening,  wash-cloth  in  hand,  the  image 
of  inhospitality. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Stryker  ?"  Mr.  Graves  formally  in- 
quired. 

"  Tol'able.     How  is 't  with  yerself  ?" 

"  I  am  thankful  to  say  that  I  am  well,  Mrs.  Stryker." 

"  P'r'aps  you'll  walk  in  and  set  a  minute,"  and  Mrs.  Stryker 
opened  the  door. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am ;"  he  walked  in  and  helped  himself 
to  a  chair.  "  Don't  let  me  disturb  you,  Mrs.  Stryker." 

"  I  hain't  doin  nothin ;"  and  Mrs.  Stryker  hastened  to  wipe 
off  the  table,  and  remove  the  litter  she  had  so  unnecessarily 
made. 

"  Is  Mr.  Stryker  at  home  ?" 

"  I  '11  see."  The  tap  of  his  hammer  was  distinctly  audible, 
and  Mrs.  Stryker  knew  he  was  in  as  well  as  she  knew  he  had 
not  been  out  the  whole  afternoon. 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  69 

Mr.  Stryker  '  was  in,'  and  came  in,  and  shook  hands  with 
Mr.  Graves,  and  took  his  seat  on  the  door-step. 

u  You  were  working,  Mr.  Stryker." 

Mr.  Stryker  nodded. 

"  The  Bible  says,  continued  Mr.  Graves, "  '  Work  while  it  is 
called  to-day.'  I  hope,  sir,  you  '11  not  neglect  that  work. 
You  must  give  account  of  yourself  in  the  next  world,  and 
you  're  an  awfully  wicked  man,  Mr.  Stryker." 

"  H-a-y  ?"  interrupted  Mr.  Stryker,  with  a  sudden  start, 
unusual  in  him,  but  not  preventing  his  habitual  drawl. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Mr.  Graves,  "  that  you,  Mr.  Stryker,"  and 
Mr.  Graves  pointed  his  finger  at  him,  by  way  of  designation, 
or  emphasis,  "  are  an  awfully  wicked  man  !" 

"  Look-a-here,  Mis-ter  Gr-a-ves,"  and  Mr.  Stryker  assumed 
an  attitude  of  contemptuous  indifference,  "  it  hain't  manners 
to  blackgaurd  a  man  in  his  own  house,  and  as  what  you  say 
hain't  true,  and  my  old  woman  knows  it  hain't,  and  you 
know 't  'aint,  you  'd  better  take  care  how  you  say 't  agin." 

Mr.  Graves  waited  till  Mr.  Stryker  had  delivered  himself, 
in  his  slow  way,  of  this,  for  him,  remarkably  long  and  ener- 
getic utterance,  and  then  replied  with  all  the  solemnity  pecu- 
liar to  himself. 

"Mr.  Stryker,  your  good  opinion  of  yourself  is  only  a 
proof  of  the  dreadful  depravity  of  your  heart.  Your  whole 
soul  is  corrupt :  from  the  crown  of  your  head  to  the  sole  of 
your  feet,  there  is  no  soundness  in  you.  You  are  covered 
with  runnnig  sores — I  speak  morally,  or  spiritually,  Mr. 
Stryker.  You  are  in  the  broad  road  that  loads  to  death.  If 
you  should  die  now,  you  would  be  damned.  Do  you  love 
God  ?  Do  you  serve  Him  \  Do  you  pray  to  Him  ?  Do 
you  honor  Him  ?  No,  Mr.  Stryker.  You  do  not.  I  fear 


60  D  I  A  M  O  N  1>     C  V  T     D  I  A  M  O  N  D  . 

you  seldom  ever  think  of  Him ;  and  now,  Mr.  Stryker,  with- 
out going  further,  have  I  not  shown  that  you  are  an  '  awfuF 
sinner  ?" 

"  S'pose  you  have,"  drawled  Mr.  Stryker,  "  if  it 's  total  de- 
pravity, as  Mr.  Poole  calls  it,  I  s'pose  I  Ve  got  it." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Stryker,  you  have  :  and  you,  too,  Mrs.  Stryker  ; 
and  you  are  both  going  to  the  wrath  to  come." 

Mrs.  Stryker  grew  red  in  the  face. 

"  I  have  come,  my  friends,"  continued  Mr.  Graves,  "  to  re- 
prove you  for  your  sins ;  especially  for  the  way  in  which  you 
bring  up  your  children.'' 

This  was  too  much  for  Mrs.  Stryker's  temper.  She  spunked 
up  now,  fiercely. 

"  Hain't  nay  son  Jim  honest,  Mr.  Graves  ?"  she  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"  Hain't  he  industrious  ?" 

"  I  believe  so." 

"  Hain't  he  got  as  good  schoolin  as  we  could  'ford  to  give  'm, 
better  larnin  nor  mine  nor  hizzen,"  pointing  to  her  husband. 

"  I  do  not  question  it,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Stryker  looked  as  if  she  would  like  to  ask  what  he  was 
"  jawin  about,"  then.  But  she  smothered  her  wrath,  while 
Mr.  Graves  explained  himself, 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Stryker,  all  that  you  say  is  true.  But  you 
have  neglected  the  one  thing  needful.  You  have  not  taught 
him  to  seek  first  of  all  the  kingdom  of  God." 

Mrs.  Shyker  looked  down,  and  began  plaiting  her  apron. 
But  she  was  not  yet  vanquished,  and  entered  strenuously  on 
self-defense. 

"  I  take  him  to  church,  Sunday,  Mr.  Graves.  I  tell  'm  not 
to  lie,  nor  steal,  nor  swear.  I  taught  him  to  say  '  Now  I  lav 


DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND.  61 

me  down  to  sleep,'  when  he  was  a  youngster.  And  if  I  hain't 
sent  'in  to  Sunday-school  afore,  it  were  because  we  live  so 
fur,  and  it  were  u't  al'ays  convenient." 

"  Mrs.  Stryker,"  Mr.  Graves  replied,  in  the  same  calm,  de- 
termined way  in  which  he  had  spoken  before,  "  it  is  my  duty 
to  tell  you  that  you  ought  to  have  done  more,  much  more 
for  the  spiritual  interest  and  eternal  salvation  of  your  son. 
You  ought  to  make  him  read  the  Bible  every  day.  You 
ought  to  talk  to  him  about  death,  judgment  and  eternity. 
You  ought  to  pray  for  him.  Above  all,  you  ought  to  seek  a 
new  heart  for  yourself,  that  you  may  set  him  a  good  example, 
and  lead  him  in  the  right  way." 

These  were  home-thrusts.  Mrs.  Stryker  winced  under 
them,  but  thought  it  wise  to  attempt  no  reply. 

Mr.  Graves  resumed,  in  a  milder  and  more  winning  tone; 
"  Mrs.  Stryker,  you  wish  to  do  your  duty  to  your  children.  I 
hope  you  will  begin  now,  and  will  second  my  efforts  in  be- 
half of  your  son's  everlasting  welfare.  Please,  Mrs.  Stryker, 
be  particular  to  send  him  regularly  and  punctually  to  school 
on  Sundays,  and  have  an  eye  to  his  learning  his  lessons  faith- 
fully. Will  you,  Mrs.  Stryker  ?" 

He  paused  for  a  reply,  and  Mrs.  Stryker  faintly  murmured 
something  about  "trying  to." 

Mr.  Graves  asked  to  see  Jim.  After  many  unavailing 
calls  at  the  front  and  the  back  doors  for  Jim,  and  for  Cinthy, 
the  latter  emerged  from  her  hiding-place,  and  sought  and 
found  Jim  under  the  cow-shed.  Mr.  Graves  addressed  him 
in  his  usual  startling  style.  Jim  liked  it.  It  was  spiced  to 
his  taste,  and  secured  his  attention  by  alarming  his  fears. 

Mr.  Graves,  before  leaving,  asked  and  obtained  permission 
to  offer  a  prayer ;  and  his  prayer  was  so  earnest,  appropriate, 


62  DIAMOND     CUT     DIAMOND. 

and  Christianlike,  that  it  obliterated  the  impression  of  un- 
pleasant feelings  from  Mr.  Stryker's  mind,  and  soothed  the 
irritability  of  his  wife. 

Such  was  Jim  Stryker's  Sunday-school  teacher.  Teacher 
and  scholar  were  admirably  suited  to  each  other.  If  Mr. 
Graves  frightened  Tommy  White,  who  shrank  away  from 
him  to  the  furthest  end  of  the  bench,  and  made  Bill  Ball 
laugh  in  his  face  by  what  Bill  called,  "  his  solemncholy  sighs," 
and  "  thunder  and  lightning"  exhortations,  he  did  more  for 
Jim  Stryker  than  a  gentler  teacher  could  have  effected :  his 
bold,  direct  accusations,  his  fierce  denunciations  of  sin,  and 
his  startling  appeals  took  hold  of  Jim  Stryker's  conscience, 
and  wrung  harsh  music  out  of  his  heart,  the  chords  of 
which  could  only  vibrate  to  a  bold  touch,  and  a  nervous 
hand. 


VII 

training  anfr  f  mi0us  Jtmts. 

"  Ton  came  to  this  life  about  a  necessary  and  weighty  business,  to  tryst  witt 
Christ  anent  your  precious  soul,  the  eternal  salvation  of  it:  this  is  the  most  neces- 
sary business  ye  have  in  this  life;  and  your  other  adoes,  beside  this,  are  but  toys, 
and  feathers,  and  dreams,  and  fancies ;  this  is  in  the  greatest  haste,  and  should  be 
done  first." 

SAMUEL  RUTHERFORD. 

A  BOUT  the  time  that  Mr.  Graves  was  leaving  the  Strykers, 
•*"*•  Nellie  was  tripping  up  the  garden  walk  of  the  tannery 
with  a  bunch  of  flowers,  and  a  face  more  radiant  than  they. 
She  entered  by  the  green-house  door,  for  that  stood  open. 
Her  bounding  step  was  arrested  on  the  threshold  by  the 
sound  of  a  manly  voice  in  prayer.  She  had  never  seen  Mr. 
Hughes,  but  was  sure  the  voice  was  his,  it  was  so  pleasant, 
just  such  a  voice  as  her  teacher's  husband  would  be  likely  to 
have.  She  stepped  softly  to  the  open  glass  door  that  led 
into  the  kitchen.  The  table  against  the  opposite  wall, 
covered  with  a  white  cloth,  showed  that  George  and  his  wife 
had  just  finished  their  supper.  The  Bible  lay  where  George's 
plate  had  been,  and  George  and  his  wife  knelt  side  by  side, 
with  their  backs  to  the  table,  and  their  faces  toward  the 
door.  Nellie,  following  her  childish  impulse,  knelt  too.  The 
prayer  was  simple ;  if  it  had  been  made  for  the  purpose,  it 
could  not  have  been  better  adapted  to  her  comprehension, 
Never  before  had  she  listened  attentively  and  intelligently  to 
a  prayer  from  beginning  to  end  ;  now,  she  was  so  interested 


64  GENTLE     TRAINING, 

that  the  others  were  rising  from  their  knees  before  she  stirred ; 
she  hardly  knew  the  last  word  was  pronounced,  for  it  was 
not  a  loud  and  abrupt,  but  a  soft  and  gentle  '  amen,'  that 
George  and  Hetty  breathed  out  together. 

What  a  pretty  picture  it  was,  that  presented  itself  to 
Hetty,  when  she  opened  her  eyes.  The  little  girl  with 
clasped  hands  and  closed  eyes,  kneeling  under  the  japonica- 
tree :  one  large  flower  (just  such  a  one  as  Hetty  had  once 
watched  from  its  budding  to  its  blooming)  directly  over  her 
head,  and  her  own  forgotten  flowers  lying  on  the  floor  before 
her.  It  was  a  singular  combination.  That  child,  under  that 
japonica-tree ;  the  white  flower  like  heavenly  innocence, 
almost  touching  her  brow,  and  the  brilliant  bouquet  lying 
rejected  on  the  ground,  as  if  an  emblem  of  the  discarded 
pleasures  of  this  world.  Hetty  Hughes  had  a  poetical  tem- 
perament, and  read  the  picture  and  its  emblematic  sugges- 
tions with  a  quick  apprehension  of  its  beauty,  and  their  sig- 
nificance. 

The  serious  impression  that  the  prayer  imprinted  on 
Nellie's  face,  passed  quickly  away,  and  the  beaming  smile 
came  back  as  she  gave  the  flowers  to  Mrs.  Hughes,  and  an- 
swered the  salutations  of  Mr.  Hughes.  She  staid  but  a 
minute,  for  she  was  not  so  free  to  talk  before  the  grave  hus- 
band as  she  was  to  the  sprightly  wife. 

Hetty  Hughes  found  herself  prompted  to  the  work  of  self- 
examination  that  night.  Why  did  she  take  so  lively  an  in- 
terest in  that  child,  more  than  in  any  other  of  her  new 
pupils  ?  Was  it  merely  owing  to  the  attractive  beauty  and 
manners  of  the  child  ?  or,  was  there  not,  partly  at  least,  an 
interest  in  her  as  the  sister  of  Robert  Lee  ?  and  did  she  not 


AND     P  R  E  C  I  O  U  9     FRUITS.  65 

feel  that  interest  deepened  and  quickened,  when  she  saw  the 
child  kneeling  under  the  japonica-tree  ?  and  did  she  not  at 
that  moment  associate  her  with  that  brother  ?  All  this  she 
had  to  confess.  But  why  was  it  so  ?  why  should  she  re- 
member Mr.  Lee  at  all  ?  why,  above  all,  should  she  love  any 
one  for  his  sake  1  She  believed  it  was  her  duty  to  analyze 
these  feelings,  and  fearlessly  and  candidly  to  deal  with  the 
truth.  Was  she  sorry  that  that  early  dream  of  love  had 
not  proved  a  reality  ?  No.  Did  she  not  love  George  Hughes 
dearly,  dearly,  and  would  she  not  rather  have  him  a  dozen 
times  over  than  Robert  Lee,  though  he  was  a  rich  and  hand- 
some gentleman  ?  Yes,  she  was  sure  of  it.  Had  she  ever 
really  and  earnestly  loved  Robert  Lee?  No;  she  had  enter- 
tained toward  him  only  a  flattering,  romantic  sentiment, 
which  might  have  ripened  into  something  more  true  and 
tender,  had  he  proved  worthy.  Then,  what  were  her  feelings 
toward  Mr.  Lee  at  this  time  ?  Did  she  hate  him  ?  No.  Did 
she  despise  him  ?  No.  Did  she  even  dislike  him  ?  No.  Had 
he  given  her  just  cause  to  do  either?  No,  she  believed  not. 
They  had  fancied  each  other,  undoubtedly ;  and  he,  thought- 
lessly perhaps,  had  visited  the  old  green-house  in  New  York, 
always  on  some  plea  of  business,  not  knowing  that  the  place 
had  a  peculiar  attraction  to  himself;  not  suspecting  that  he 
might  be  exciting  in  the  mind  of  a  very  young  and  inex- 
perienced girl,  hopes  of  more  intimate  relations,  which  she 
could  not  regard  as  he  did,  as  absurd  and  not  to  be  thought 
of.  This,  she  now  saw,  was  the  true  state  of  the  case :  and 
she  felt  assured  that  she  might  love  Nellie  Lee,  even  for  her 
brother's  sake ;  and  might  associate  her  with  that  japonica- 
trce.  Yes,  that  flower,  that  overhung  Nellie's  head  should 
repay  her  for  any  pain  which  a  flower,  which  once  grew 


66  G  E  N  T  L  K     I  K  A  I  N  I  N  O , 

there,  had  caused.  She  would  regard  Nellie  as  especially 
given  her  to  love  and  to  bless :  perhaps  it  was  for  this,  as 
well  as  for  certain  valuable  lessons  on  life  and  duty,  that 
some  things  had  been  permitted  to  happen. 

Hetty  came  back  from  these  thoughts  to  the  delightful 
conclusion  that  she  did  love  dear  George  Hughes  with  all 
her  heart :  and  she  went  to  him,  where  he  sat  by  the  open 
door  that  looked  toward  the  tannery,  and  smoothing  back 
his  hair  from  his  broad,  dark  forehead,  kissed  him  so  lovingly 
that  George  had  to  give  her  the  kiss  back  again. 

George  was  something  of  a  necromancer.  He  could  read 
others'  thoughts.  At  least,  so  his  wife  opined,  for  he  always 
read  her  transparent  heart.  Had  he  been  thinking  all  this 
while  about  his  tannery,  toward  which  his  eyes  were  directed  ? 
Hetty  half  doubted  it,  for  his  first  words  were  so  appropriate 
to  what  she  had  been  thinking  about. 

"  Hetty,"  he  said,  drawing  her  down  to  his  knee,  "  He 
that  knoweth  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  ordereth  all 
things  according  to  his  wise  and  holy  purpose,  links  the 
events  of  our  lives  together  in  such  a  way  that  one  draws 
another  after  it  as  a  necessary  consequence ;  and  often  it  is  a 
pleasant  consequence  of  a  disagreeable  antecedent.  Many  a 
thing  happens,  not  for  its  own  sake,  but  to  prepare  the  way 
for,  and  interest  our  minds  in  something  far  different,  and  far 
more  desirable.  The  Psalmist,  having  described  the  provi- 
dence of  God  toward  the  children  of  men  in  many  particu- 
lars, concludes  with  this  admonitory  promise :  '  Whoso  is 
wise,  and  will  observe  these  things,  even  they  shall  under- 
stand the  loving-kindness  of  the  Lord.' " 

Nellie's  visits  to  the  tannery  were  often  repeated.     Some- 


AND     P  BE  CIO  US     FRUITS,  67 

times  she  went  to  carry  a  plant,  begged  from  the  gardener 
of  Truro ;  sometimes  to  see  whether  a  bud  near  blooming  in 
Mrs.  Hughes'  garden  had  opened  ;  and  sometimes  she  went 
simply  because  she  liked  to  go,  nor  was  it  seldom  that 
George  and  Hetty  Hughes,  when  they  rose  from  their  knees 
at  evening  prayer,  were  greeted  with  the  smile  of  little  Nel- 
lie Lee.  But  come  when  she  would,  and  for  what  she 
would,  she  was  always  welcome.  She  soon  learned  that 
Mr.  Hughes'  quiet,  grave  ways,  were  very  cheerful  ones,  and 
she  felt  almost  as  much  freedom  with  him  as  with  "  cousin 
Hetty,"  as  she  chose  to  call  her  teacher. 

The  youngest  of  a  large  family  is  apt  to  be  both  the  most 
neglected  and  the  most  petted.  This  was  the  case  with 
Nellie  Lee.  Whatever  attempts  at  the  education  of  the 
minds  and  hearts  of  their  elder  children  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee 
had  personally  put  forth,  were  exhausted  before  Harry  and 
Nellie  came  in  for  their  share.  Mrs.  Lee  was  incapable  of 
exerting  a  very  positive  influence  of  any  kind ;  she  was  a 
quiet,  gentle,  sensitive,  lady-like  cypher  in  the  world,  loving 
retirement,  truly  conscientious  and  blamelessly  good  without 
force  of  intellect  or  will,  in  religious  matters  scrupulously 
governed  by  Mr.  Poole,  and  in  all  others  religiously  con- 
trolled by  her  husband.  Mr.  Lee,  while  fondly  indulgent  to 
his  children,  never  entered  largely  into  their  sympathies,  nor 
seemed  sensible  of  any  special  responsibility  in  regard  to 
their  training.  He  could  not  indeed  treat  Nellie  just  as  he 
did  his  other  children.  She  was  not  one  to  be  thrown  off 
and  uncared  for.  She  would  force  herself  upon  attention. 
She  would  be  noticed  and  she  would  be  loved.  The  father 
was  attracted  to  her  more  and  more  as  the  unique  and  not 
unlovely  traits  of  her  character  disclosed  themselves.  Yet 


68  GENTLE     TRAINING, 

the  interest  he  felt  in  her  failed  to  arouse  him  to  a  sense  of 
duty,  or  to  any  effort  to  influence  the  development  of  her 
character  for  good. 

The  lack  of  discipline  on  the  part  of  the  parents,  was 
not  supplied  by  the  elder  brothers  and  sisters.  Norton,  the 
only  one  capable  of  it,  was  away  from  home  ;  Robert  was  too 
much  a  man  of  the  world  ;  and  Rupert  too  much  a  man  of 
the  turf;  Charlotte  and  Emma  were  too  much  engrossed 
with  themselves ;  and  Maria  was  too  inefficient,  if  she  had 
been  old  enough.  So  Harry  and  Nellie  grew  up  as  they 
might.  Harry,  indeed,  at  an  early  age,  passed  from  under 
home  influences  to  those  of  the  boarding-school.  Nellie  was 
left,  in  a  manner,  all  alone.  Even  the  nurse  who  was  hired 
to  take  care  of  her  infancy,  was  appropriated  as  ladies'  maid 
by  Charlotte  and  Emma,  so  soon  as  Nellie  could  possibly 
dispense  with  her  services.  And  Madame  Dupon^eau,  the 
governess,  was  too  much  occupied  in  finishing  off  the  educa- 
tion of  the  elder  sisters,  to  bestow  much  attention  on  the 
elementary  instruction  of  the  youngest.  So  Nellie  was  over- 
looked by  all  who  might  have  exerted  an  influence  over  her. 
She  ran  wild  with  Prince,  her  dog ;  and  did  what  she  chose, 
and  when  she  chose,  without  license,  or  hinderance. 

What  would  have  worked  the  ruin  of  most  children,  did 
Nellie  less  injury  than  a  slight  degree  of  over-restraint  might 
have  done.  Affectionate,  warm-hearted,  and  full  of  hilarity, 
it  was  hard  to  spoil  her  by  giving  her  too  much  liberty. 
The  only  serious  faults  this  wrought  in  her  character,  were 
self-will  and  impetuosity,  manifesting  themselves  in  outbursts 
of  anger  when  unused  opposition  was  offered  to  her  wishes, 
as  brief  as  they  were  violent.  Here  the  Sunday-school 
teacher's  gentle  influence  was  felt  for  good. 


AND    PRECIOUS     FRUITS.  69 

None  but  the  joyous,  child-like  spirit  of  Hetty  Hughes 
3ould  entirely  comprehend  and  sympathize  with  the  un- 
tamed, frolicsome  spirit  of  her  little  pupil.  They  loved  and 
understood  each  other,  for  both  loved  the  flowers,  the  birds, 
the  bubbling  brook,  the  loud  and  mirthful  laugh,  and  merry 
and  blithesome  songs.  What  wonder  then  if  the  one  soon 
led  the  other  to  the  love  of  Jesu.s. 

"  Oh.  cousin  Hetty,"  cried  Nellie,  one  day,  "  here  is  a  new 
flowur  I  never  saw  before.  What  is  it  ?" 

"  That  is  the  lily  of  Palestine,  Nellie.  I  found  that  one 
bulb  in  an  old  desk,  where  father  had  put  it  for  safety,  and 
where  it  was  likely  never  to  be  found  again." 

"  I  thought  the  lily  was  white,"  answered  Nellie,  "  but- 
this  is  a  beautiful  scarlet." 

"  That  explains  what  Jesus  said,"  replied  a  pleasant  voice 
behind  her,  not  cousin  Hetty's  but  George  Hughes' :  "  Con- 
sider the  lilies  of  the  field  how  they  grow :  they  toil  not 
neither  do  they  spin ;  and  yet  I  say  unto  you,  that  even  Solo- 
mon in  all  his  glory,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these.' " 

George  had  come  into  the  garden  in  search  of  his  wife, 
and  engaged  her  attention  some  time  in  conversation.  When 
George  was  gone,  Hetty  observed  that  Nellie  was  seated 
on  the  grass,  looking  at  the  lily,  and  apparently  lost  in  an  un- 
usual fit  of  musing. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Nellie  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  was  thinking  about  flowers  and  things,"  she  answered, 
abstractedly  ;  and  then,  as  if  suddenly  waking  up,  she  asked 
with  animation.  "  Cousin  Hetty,  do  you  think  Jesus  loved 
flowers  ?" 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it,  Nellie.  But  he  loved  litt'e  children 
better.  He  never  said  much  about  the  flowers,  nor,  so  far 


70  ULNTLE     TRAINING, 

as  we  are  told,  gave  them  much  attention.  Perhaps,  Nellie, 
He  was  too  busy." 

"  Too  busy  !  Did  he  carry  on  any  business  ?  I  hope  He 
was  n't  a  tanner,  for  I  can  hardly  love  even  Mr.  Hughes  foi 
having  such  an  ugly  business." 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Hughes  answered,  laughing.  "  He  was  not  a 
tanner.  It  is  supposed  He  was  a  carpenter,  though.  But  it 
was  not  any  such  kind  of  business  I  meant.  He  was  busy 
another  way.  Even  when  He  was  a  boy,  not  much  older 
than  your  brother  Harry,  He  said  to  His  mother  '  Wist  ye 
not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business  ?'  " 

"  What  did  He  mean  ?"  Nellie  asked. 

"  He  meant  the  business  of  His  Father  in  Heaven." 

k<  And  what  was  that  ?"  she  asked  again. 

"  It  was  to  make  a  way  by  which  we  could  go  to  Heaven, 
and  to  teach  us  what  that  way  is." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  understand  now  what  you  mean.  I  never 
thought  before,  though,  that  this  kept  him  very  busy.  But, 
Cousin  Hetty,  how  do  you  know  that  He  loved  little  children 
more  than  He  loved  the  flowe;  s  ?" 

Cousin  Hetty  seated  herself  on  the  ground  and  with  a 
very  serious  voice  repeated  the  words, 

" '  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world 
and  lose  his  own  soul :  or  what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange 
for  his  soul  ?'  " 

"Do  stop,  Cousin  Hetty,  and  please  tell  how  you  know  that 
Jesus  loved  children." 

"  Why,  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  answered  her  teacher,  in 
the  same  voice.  "  If  Jesus  valued  the  soul  more  than  the 
whole  world,  flowers  and  all — of  course  He  must  have  loved 


AND   PKECIOCS   FRUITS.  71 

little  children  who  have  immortal  souls,  far  better  than  the 
flowers." 

Nellie  looked  thoughtful  and  dissatisfied. 

"  Cousin  Hetty,"  she  said  after  a  little,  "  that  is  not  a  good 
answer." 

"  *  Is  not  a  good  answer  ?'  Why  not  ?"  asked  her  teacher, 
perplexed. 

"  I  don't  know  why :  only  it  don't  answer  the  question  I 
asked,  whether  Jesus  loved  children  better  than  flowers  ?" 

Hetty  Hughes  sat  and  thought  for  some  time.  At  last 
the  light  broke  in  upon  her  and  she  laughed  at  her  own 
simplicity.  In  the  anxiety  of  the  teacher,  she  had  answered 
as  a  teacher,  and  not  as  a  child. 

"I  know  what  you  mean  now,  Nellie,"  she  said.  "  Yes,  Jesus 
liked,  or  'loved,'  as  you  call  it,  little  children  even  better 
than  He  did  the  flowers.  He  liked  to  watch  them,  and  listen 
to  them,  and  fondle  them.  He  tells  us  in  one  place  just  how 
they  used  to  play,  and  I  never  read  the  passage  without 
thinking  of  Him  sitting  in  the  temple,  watching  the  little 
things,  and  listening  to  every  word  they  spoke.  And  then 
when  they  brought  young  children  to  Him  to  bless  them, 
He  not  only  blessed  them,  but  took  them  up  in  His  arms 
and  laid  His  hands  upon  them.  And  another  time  He  put  a 
little  child  on  His  knee,  and  preached  to  his  disciples  a  ser- 
mon about  the  child." 

"  Cousin  Hetty,  if  I  get  the  Bible,  will  you  read  me  those 
places  ?" 

"Yes." 

Nellie  scampered  off  to  the  house,  and  returned  again  in  a 
minute  with  the  Bible,  and  Mrs.  Hughes  read  these  words  : 

"  They  are  like  unto  children  sitting  in  the  market-place, 


72  G  E  N  T  L  E     T  R  A  I  N  I  X  G  . 

and  calling  one  to  another,  and  saying,  We  have  piped  unto 
you  and  ye  have  not  danced ;  we  have  mourned  to  you 
and  ye  have  not  wept"  "  And  they  brought  young  children 
to  Him,  that  He  should  touch  them ;  and  his  disciples  re- 
buked those  that  brought  them.  But  when  Jesus  saw  it,  He 
was  much  displeased,  and  said  unto  them,  Suffer  the  little 
children  to  come  unto  Me,  and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  God.  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  whosoever 
shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  he 
shall  not  enter  therein.  Aud  He  took  them  up  in  his  arms, 
put  His  hands  upon  them,  and  blessed  them."  "And  He 
took  a  child  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them :  and  when  He 
had  taken  him  in  His  arms,  He  said  unto  them,  Whosoever 
shall  receive  one  of  such  children  in  My  name,  receiveth 
Me.'" 

Thus,  precept  upon  precept,  line  upon  line,  here  a  little, 
and  there  a  little,  the  holy  Gospel  was  flowing  into  the  heart 
of  Nellie  Lee,  and  forming  her  character  in  Gospel  love  and 
tastes  and  habits. 


vm. 


u  Pleasure  that  comes  unlocked  for  is  thrice  welcome; 
*     *    *    *    and  the  day  it  caino 
Is  noted  as  a  white  day  in  our  lives." 

SAMUEL  BOORES. 

ONE  evening,  a  few  weeks  after  they  had  come  to  Cedar- 
ville,  George  and  Hetty  Hughes  received  a  call  from 
good  Deacon  Hayes. 

"  I  have  called,"  he  said  to  George,  "  to  ask  your  name  to 
a  subscription.  Young  folks,  just  beginning  life,  ain't  ex- 
pected to  give  much.  But  we  would  n't  pass  you  over  on 
no  account,  it  would  n't  be  neighborly,  nor  Christian  neither." 

"  What  is  the  subscription  for  ?"  George  inquired. 

"  To  repair  the  old  parsonage.  Don't  know  how  it  is  to 
be  repaired,  it  's  so  old  and  shackling.  It  's  gone  so  long 
without  nothing  done  to  it,  it  's  most  to  pieces  ^  shingles  off, 
ceilings  down,  doors  and  windows  all  askew." 

"  I  've  observed,"  said  George,  "  its  bad  condition.  I 
should  think  it  hardly  worth  repairing." 

"  That  's  a  fact,"  the  deacon  said.  "  But  here,  all  of  a 
sudden,  Mr.  Poole  's  taken  it  into  his  head  to  get  married  ! 
Of  course  the  parsonage  must  be  put  in  some  sort  of  order. 
There's  nobody  would  care  to  take  him  to  board,  if  he 
brings  a  wife  along,  even  he  wanted  them  to." 

"  Going  to  get  married  !"  interposed  Hetty,  waking  up 
4 


74  PATIENCETRIED: 

now  to  the  interest  of  the  subject :  "  I  thought  Mr.  Poole 
was  a  confirmed  old  bachelor." 

"  Mr.  Poole  is  n't  a  bachelor,  he 's  a  widower." 

"  Is  he  ?" 

"  Yes.  He  was  married  when  he  first  came  here.  But 
his  wife  died  soon  after,  and  he  never  got  another.  He  's  a 
contented  sort  of  man,  and 's  lived  on  from  year  to  year 
without  thinking  about  it,  I  guess.  His  sister  took  care  of 
him.  But  she  died  last  winter,  and  I  suppose  he  's  felt  lone- 
.y  and  unkempt-like,  and  so  has  come  to  the  conclusion  to 
get  a  wife." 

"  I  hope  he  '11  get  a  good  one,"  said  Hetty. 

"  She  's  very  well  spoke  of,"  said  the  deacon. 

"  Does  'she  live  here  ?"  inquired  Hetty. 

"  No ;  she 's  the  widow  of  a  clergyman,  oflf  in  Pennsyl- 
vany  somewhere." 

"  Has  she  any  children  ?"  was  the  next  question. 

"  I  believe  not.  She  were  n't  married  but  a  while  when 
her  husband  died.  I  suspect  she  and  Mr.  Poole  felt  a  sort 
of  fellow-feeling  and  sympathy  for  each  other.  They've 
always  known  each  other,  folks  say." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  between  Mr.  Hayes 
and  Mrs.  Hughes,  George  was  forming  a  plan  of  his  own. 

"  Mr.  Hayes,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  the  parsonage,  you  think 
is  not  worth  repairing.  It  was  built,  I  have  been  told,  be- 
fore the  Revolutionary  war,  and,  judging  from  the  outside — 
I  have  never  been  inside — it  would  take  more  than  a  revo- 
lution to  make  it  comfortable.  Now  I  Ve  been  thinking  it 
might  be  a  good  plan  to  purchase  Bedminster  House  for  a 
parsonage." 

Deacon  Hayes  dropped  the  subscription  book,  and  gazed 


LOVE     SURPRISED.  75 

at  George  with  astonishment  on  every  line  of  his  face.  The 
idea  was  "  pro-dig-i-ous !"  as  if  the  minister  of  Cedarville 
could  live  any  where  but  in  the  old  parsonage  ;  or  as  if  the 
Cedarville  people  would  think  of  giving  the  minister  the 
best  house  in  the  village.  Mr.  Hayes  was  too  stupified  with 
the  grandeur  of  the  thought  to  reply,  and  George  resumed  : 

"  That  property  is  useless  to  the  owner,  and  is  going  to 
decay.  I  do  not  doubt  it  could  be  bought  cheap.  The  old 
parsonage  lot  might  be  added  to  the  graveyard,  which  needs 
enlarging.  Why  not,  Mr.  Hayes  ?" 

"  Tush  !  nonsense  !  young  man.  Don't  bring  your  city 
notions  up  here.  Your  city  ministers  can  live  in  big  houses  : 
their  people  can  afford  it ;  but  country  ministers  must  be 
content  to  have  things  not  quite  so  good  as  their  neighbors. 
You  must  n't  judge  of  our  means  by  your  city  church. 
We  are  poor  folks  here." 

"  Some  city  churches  are  poor,  too,  Mr.  Hayes,"  George 
replied.  "  In  the  one  I  belonged  to,  every  man  of  us  worked 
for  his  living.  Most  were  mechanics,  some  laborers,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  little  tradesmen,  milliners,  mantua-makers,  and 
so  on.  Yet  we  managed  to  make  our  minister  comfortable, 
and  to  give  away  a  good  deal  besides." 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Hughes,  country  folks  have  different 
ways.  Our  minister  would  n't  seem  like  our  minister  if  he 
lived  any  where  but  in  the  old  parsonage.  And  if  he  had  a 
better  house  than  the  rest  of  us,  he  might  get  proud." 

"  A  vice  Mr.  Poole  seems  in  no  danger  from,"  said  George. 

"  We  Ve  no  fault  to  find  with  him  in  that  respect.  He 's 
an  humble,  godly  man,  sir." 

"  Are  his  people  generally  attached  to  him  ?"  George 
asked. 


70  PATIENCE   TRIED: 

"Mr.  Poole  hasn't  an  enemy  in  the  world,  as  I  know  of. 
We  all  love  him,  and  have  reason  to.  To  be  sure,  he 's  not 
a  great  man  :  many  a  minister's  more  learned  and  eloquent 
and  active.  But  he  suits  us.  He's  been  here  now — let's 
see — it 's  twenty-two  years  last  winter.  He  does  well  enough 
for  our  plain  sort  of  folks." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Deacon  Hayes,"  said  George,  "  the  Cedar- 
ville  people  hardly  know  the  value  of  their  minister.  He 
seems  to  me  a  man  of  uncommon  sense  and  piety  ;  and,  ex- 
cuse me,  Deacon,  I  judge  he  is  a  man  of  more  learning  than 
you  imagine.  And  though  he  is  not  eloquent,  as  you  say, 
he  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  and  interesting  preachers  / 
ever  heard.  I  think,  too,  that  his  twenty-two  years  minis- 
try has  done  much  to  make  you  the  quiet,  honest,  industri- 
ous, happy,  church-going  people  you  are.  I  doubt  if  there 
is  another  village  in  the  country  where  every  body  goes  to 
church,  as  they  do  here." 

"  Yes,  sir.  Mr.  Poole 's  done  a  good  work.  He  '11  have 
his  reward  :  and  we  '11  know  how  to  love  him  better  in 
Heaven.  But  if  we  loved  him  ever  so  much,  we  could  n't 
buy  Bedminster  House — so  there  's  no  use  talking  up  that." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Hayes ;  it 's  not  for  me,  a  stranger,  to  urge  the 
matter.  I  '11  give  what  I  can  toward  repairing  the  old  par- 
sonage." George  wrote  his  name,  and  glanced  over  the 
other  names,  and  the  amounts  appended  to  them. 

"  I  wish  we  could  buy  Bedminster  House,"  said  George, 
speaking,  as  if  to  himself. 

"  I  almost  wish  we  could,"  said  the  deacon,  in  the  same 
tone,  "  Mr.  Poole 's  worthy  of  it." 

"  I  do  not  see  Mr.  Lee's  name  here,  deacon,"  said  George. 

"  No.     We  Ve  not  called  upon  him  yet,"  the  deacon  an- 


LOVE     SURPRISED.  77 

swered.  "  We  usually  do  what  we  can  in  the  village,  first, 
and  he  most  always  doubles  the  whole  sum  of  our  subscrip- 
tions." 

"  Mr.  Hayes,"  said  George,  in  a  modest,  suggestive  way,  as 
one  that  would  not  dictate,  nor  urge  his  own  wishes  too  far, 
"suppose  you  just  mention  to  Mr.  Lee — it  would  do  no  harm 
— that  the  purchase  of  Bedminster  House,  for  a  parsonage, 
has  been  spoken  of:  ask  him  what  he  thinks  of  it." 

Mr.  Hayes  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I  guess  I  will.  Some  how 
since  the  notion 's  got  into  my  head,  I  rather  like  it.  I  don't 
like  giving  up  the  old  parsonage,  neither.  I'd  a  leetle  rather 
it  would  tumble  down,  than  be  torn  down — and  that  after 
my  old  head 's  too  low  to  see  it.  Howsoever,  it  can't  stand 
much  longer;  and  it  would  be  a  sort  of  comfort  to  me  to 
know,  if  I  was  dying,  that  Mr.  Poole  would  be  comfortable 
when  I  were  n't  here  to  look  after  him.  Fact  is,  somehow, 
they  've  always  left  the  minister  to  my  care,  and  I  hain't 
taken  as  good  care  of  him  as  I  might." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  George,  "  Mr.  Lee  might  take  a  fancy  to 
the  idea,  too ;  who  knows  ?" 

"  Sure  enough !"  answered  the  deacon,  animated  by  the 
hope ;  "  I  tell  you  what  I  '11  do.  I  '11  go  directly  up  to  Truro 
before  my  courage  cools  off,  and  ask  Mr.  Lee  what  he  does 
think  of  it." 

George  volunteered  to  accompany  him,  influenced  partly 
by  an  unwillingness  to  let  the  old  man  take  so  long  a  walk 
alone,  and  partly  by  the  hope  that  a  word  or  two  from  him- 
self would  help  the  matter  to  a  successful  issue. 

Mr.  Lee  received  them  courteously,  and  listened  to  their 
errand  with  interest.  The  expected  marriage  of  Mr.  Poole 


78  JPATIKNCE   TRIED: 

was  as  surprising  to  him,  as  to  the  rest  of  the  village.  He  at 
once  decided  that  it  was  impossible  to  put  the  old  parsonage 
in  proper  order.  Either  they  must  build  a  new  one,  or  buy 
Bedminster  House.  He  requested  them  to  mention  the  sub- 
ject to  no  one  else,  till  they  heard  from  him  again.  He 
would  think  about  it,  and  see  what  could  be  done. 

Time  wore  on,  and  Mr.  Poole  heard  nothing  in  reference  to 
his  modest  request  that  some  repairs  should  be  made  in  the 
old  parsonage.  He  grew  nervously  anxious.  Deacon  Hayes 
seemed  impervious  to  his  hints,  and  always  turned  oft  with 
a  "  We  '11  attend  to  it,  Mr.  Poole,  we  '11  attend  to  it."  At 
last,  one  day,  nerved  by  desperation,  the  good  minister  put 
on  his  hat,  assumed  his  most  erect  attitude,  and,  without 
looking  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  afraid  of  even  the  shadow 
'  of  a  dissuasive  thought  that  might  be  creeping  along  beside 
him,  walked  directly  to  Mr.  Hayes'  house,  and,  sans  ceremo- 
nial preliminaries,  put  to  him  the  direct  question, "  Mr.  Hayes, 
I  wish  you  to  say,  yes,  or  no,  whether  any  thing  is  to  be  done 
to  the  parsonage  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Poole :  I  told  you  so  long  ago." 

"  But  when  is  it  to  be  done  ?"  asked  Mr.  Poole,  with  an- 
noyed impatience. 

"  Well,  let 's  see,"  the  deacon  began  with  provoking  de- 
liberation. "  You  said,  I  think,  you  were  to  be  married  in 
August,  and  cal'clated  to  be  absent  three  weeks ;  well,  I 
reckon,  that  '11  be  time  enough  to  do  all  that  needs  to  be 
done.  You  need  n't  make  yourself  oneasy,  Mr.  Poole  :  you  '11 
find  all  right  when  you  come  back." 

"  Deacon  Hayes,"  Mr.  Poole  began,  compelling  himself  to 
speak  argumentatively,  and  not  to  say  all  he  thought  of  this 


L  O  V  E     S  U  H  V  R  I  8  E  D  .  70 

absurd  plan,  "Deacon  Hayes,  it  is  impossible,  impossible  to  do 
all  that  must  be  done,  in  three  weeks.  The  roof,  the  window- 
shutters,  the  north  chimney,  the  kitchen  floor,  the  back  steps, 
the—" 

"  Oh  there 's  no  use  talking  about  it,  Mr.  Poole,"  the  dea- 
con interrupted.  u  We  Ve  arranged  it  all.  Just  only  make 
yourself  easy,  and  I  give  you  my  word,  Mr.  Poole,  that  the 
work  will  and  shall  be  done,  by  the  time  you  come  back." 

The  deacon  had  never  been  so  impracticable  and  refrac- 
tory. Mr.  Poole  gave  him  up  in  despair.  He  knew,  at 
least  he  thought  he  did,  that  he  should  bring  his  wife  to  a 
house  (that  never  could  be  over  comfortable),  in  most  comfort- 
less confusion :  but  he  resolved  to  be — what  he  always  was — 
silent  and  patient. 

On  a  bright  day  in  September,  Mr.  Poole  returned  with 
Mrs.  Poole  to  Cedarville.  A  pleasant,  quiet  face,  round, 
smooth,  plump  and  placid,  a  face  that  might  have  seen  forty 
summers,  smiled  back  upon  the  villagers,  who  thronged 
about  their  garden  gates  to  smile  their  welcomes,  as  tho 
stage  rolled  through  the  broad,  grass-grown  street. 

As  they  drew  near  the  church,  Mr.  Poole  became  restless. 
He  caught  the  first  possible  glimpse  of  the  old  parsonage — 
alas !  his  fears  were  realized :  the  outside  at  least  had  re- 
ceived no  touch  of  improvement.  Strange  that  the  window- 
shutters  were  closed.  He  must  have  been  expected  ;  for  his 
people  had  bowed  and  courtesied  to  him  in  their  best 
clothes,  from  every  house  they  had  passed.  Miserable  for- 
getfulness  to  pour  all  the  sunshine  of  their  welcome  into  the 
broad  street,  and  let  none  into  the  gloomy  parsonage  ! 

The   stage  came  to  a  dead   halt,  opposite   the   church. 


80  PATIENCE 

Mr.  Poole  gazing  over  at  the  deserted-looking  parsonage, 
impatient  to  penetrate  its  mysterious  silence,  did  not  observe 
that  Deacon  Hayes  had  opened  the  door  of  the  coach  on  the 
other  side,  and  waited  for  him  to  alight.  The  deacon  called 
his  attention. 

"  How  d'  ye  do,  Mr.  Poole  ?     I  wish  you  joy,  sir." 

"  Oh,  deacou.     Thank  you.    Mrs.  Poole — Deacon  Hayes." 

Deacon  Hayes  shook  hands  very  deliberately  with  Mrs. 
Poole,  while  Mr.  Poole  wished  he  would  bring  his  politeness 
and  their  journey  to  an  end. 

"  Will  you  not  get  out,  Mr.  Poole  ?" 

"  Thank  you,  deacon.  If  you  will  shut  the  door,  the 
driver  can  take  us  nearer  the  house." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Poole,  the  fact  is,  we  have  n't  got  the  old 
house  fixed,  and  you  '11  have  to  stay  here  a  while." 

"  Oh — ,"  said  Mr.  Poole  ;  a  very  long  and  unsatisfied 
"  oh"  it  was,  as  near  a  growl  as  Mr.  Poole  ever  uttered  in 
his  life. 

The  trunks  were  deposited  in  the  wheelbarrow  of  Mr. 
Hayes'  eldest  son,  ani  the  mail  coach,  too  dignified  to  turn 
into  the  carriage-way,  and  carry  its  passengers  to  the  door 
of  the  house,  left  them  standing  beside  their  baggage,  and 
drove  off. 

"  I  told  you  it  would  be  so,  Mr.  Hayes,"  said  Mr.  Poole 
with  a  reproachful  tone,  as  they  filed  one  after  another 
through  the  open  gate.  "  But  what  in  the  world,"  he 
added,  as  the  singularity  of  the  thing  struck  him  for  the  first 
time,  "  what  in  the  world  put  it  into  your  heads  to  put  us 
here  ?  Why  did  you  not  write  to  me,  and  we  could  have 
made  other  arrangements  >.  Have  you  brought  the  furni- 
ture over  here  ?" 


LOVE     SURPRISED.  81 

"  You  '11  see,  sir,"  Mr.  Hayes  interrupted.  "We  Ve  tried 
to  make  you  comfortable." 

What  was  Deacon  Hayes  laughing  about?  Mr.  Poole 
had  never  seen  him  so  merry. 

Sarah  Hayes  met  them  half  way  up  the  garden  walk,  and 
relieved  Mrs.  Poole  of  shawls  and  baskets. 

On  the  piazza  stood  six  green  Windsor  chairs,  newly 
painted,  from  the  parsonage.  Mr.  Poole  recognized  them  at 
once  :  What  were  they  doing  here  ?  There  were  four  more 
of  the  same  chairs  in  the  broad  hall,  and  on  the  hall  floor 
a  new,  shining  oil-cloth,  and  new  carpet,  and  bright  brass 
rods  on  the  stairs.  What  did  all  this  mean  ? 

Sarah  Hayes  led  the  way  into  the  room  on  the  left  hand ; 
here  too  was  a  new  carpet,  aud  new  chairs  by  the  windows ; 
but,  in  the  corner  stood  the  old  clock,  and  against  the  wall, 
the  old  sideboard,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  the  old 
dining-table,  so  familiar  for  many  a  long  year  to  the  old 
parsonage. 

"  Why,  Sarah,"  exclaimed-  Mr.  Poole,  "  you  have  taken  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  to  make  us  comfortable  here.  It  seems 
a  pity  for  the  short  time  we  are  to  stay.  Perhaps,"  he 
added,  smilingly,  "  we  may  not  be  willing  to  leave  it." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not,  sir,"  answered  Sarah,  her  good-na- 
tured face  all  aglow  with  happiness. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Poole,"  called  out  Mr.  Hayes  from  the 
opposite  room,  on  the  other  side  of  the  entry,  "will  you 
please  step  here  ?w 

They  obeyed.  The  room  they  entered  was  neatly  fur- 
nished as  a  library.  Mr.  Hayes  seated  Mr.  Poole  in  ai  arm- 
chair, and  Mrs.  Poole  in  another,  handed  Mr.  Poole  a  <sm«Ul 
tape-tied  parcel,  and  vanished  from  the  room. 


82  1'  A  T  I  E  N  C  E     T  It  I  E  D  I 

Mr.  Poole  proceeded  to  examine  the  contents  of  the  yel- 
low envelope.  These  were  only  two  in  number,  one  a  for- 
midable looking  legal  document,  the  other  a  letter.  The 
first  proved  to  be  a  deed  of  gift,  from  Robert  Lee,  Eaq.,  to 
the  Trustees  of  the  Cedarville  Church,  of  Bedminster  House 
and  property,  to  be  held  as  a  parsonage  forever.  The  min- 
ister had  to  read  it  over  again  and  again,  before  he  could  so 
clearly  thread  his  way  through  its  superfluous  technicalities 
as  to  leave  no  doubt  as  to  the  certainty  of  its  sense,  the  ac- 
tuality of  its  munificence.  Good  man  !  what  a  flurry  of 
unused  excitement  stirred  his  simple  heart,  what  pleasant 
agitation  suffused  his  face  with  modest  blushes  and  smiles 
of  gratification,  and  vibrated  through  nerves  and  muscles  to 
his  finger  ends.  He  took  his  spectacles  off,  put  them  on, 
took  them  off  again ;  he  laid  the  paper  on  the  table,  then 
with  a  sudden  thought  for  its  safety,  opened  the  table-drawer 
and  laid  it  there,  put  his  spectacles  on  it,  closed  and  locked 
the  drawer,  and  secured  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Then  he 
came  to  Mrs.  Poole,  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  while 
she  looked  up  with  a  wondering  of  what  he  meant  to  do,  he 
kissed  her  smiling  face  on  either  cheek.  "  Thank  you, 
Mrs.  Poole,  thank  you,  thank  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  pour- 
ing out  upon  her  the  gratitude  which  was  swelling  in  his 
heart. 

"  For  the  kiss,  «r — "  Mrs.  Poole  looked  up  at  him  with 
}iiiet  hurnor. 

"  Well,  well,  for  every  thing,"  the  good  minister  answered, 
oinewhat  abashed. 

"  Suppose  you  read  the  other  letter,"  Mrs.  Poole  suggested. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  had  quite  forgotten." 

Mr.  Poole  took  his  seat,  and  searched  for  his  spectacles. 


LOVES  UK  PRISED.  83 

Mrs.  Poole  came  to  his  assistance ;  every  pocket  was  emptied, 
floor,  table,  mantel-piece,  book-shelves,  every  possible  and  im- 
possible place  examined  before  they  were  discovered,  safely 
ensconced  under  lock  and  key,  in  the  table  drawer. 

The  letter  Mr.  Pooie  could  hardly  road  for  the  tears  tliat 
would  overflow  from  his  eyes. 

"  To  OUR  DEAR  PASTOR  : 

"  We  have  taken  the  liberty  of  appropriating  the 
money  originally  intended  for  the  repair  of  the  old  parson 
age,  to  furnishing  the  new,  as  an  expression  of  our  love  to 
him,  and  our  wishes  for  his  happiness  on  the  occasion 
of  his  marriage.  That  he  may  not  begin  housekeeping  with 
an  empty  larder,  we  propose  to  call  in  person,  on  next 
Wednesday,  and  tender  our  respects  and  congratulations. 
That  his  life  may  be  spared,  his  labors  blessed,  and  the  love 
which  binds  him  to  our  hearts  be  ever  increasing,  is  our 
earnest  prayer. 

"  In  behalf  of  all  his  paishioners. 

"TIMOTHY  HAYES. 

"ROBERT  LEE. 

"JAMES  LOWE. 

"GEORGE  HUGHES." 

The  oppressive  sense  of  joy  and  gratitude  melted  under 
the  tears,  and  his  heart  relieved  of  its  first  emotions,  returned 
to  its  equable  beatings — only  a  joy  and  hope  found  place 
there,  where  too  often  fear  and  despondency  had  unnerved 
the  pastor's  efforts  for  his  flock. 


IX. 


"The  Country  Parson  is  exceeding  exact  in  his  Life,  being  holy,  Just,  prudent 
temperate,  bold,  grave,  in  all  his  •ways.  —  The  Parson's  yea  is  yea,  and  nay,  nay  ; 
and  his  apparel  plain,  but  reverend,  and  clean,  without  spots,  or  dust,  or  smell  ; 
the  purity  of  his  mind  breaking  out,  and  dilating  itself  even  to  his  body,  clothes, 
and  habitation."  —  OEOKOE  HERBERT. 

"DEDMINSTER  HOUSE  made  the  prettiest  parsonage 
-*-'  that  ever  was.  It  stood  far  back  from  the  street,  on  the 
same  knoll,  or  extended  ridge,  from  which  the  church  over- 
looked the  village.  The  long  distance  between  the  house 
and  the  street,  was  traversed  by  a  path,  over-bowered  with 
trees  ;  the  carriage-drive  started  at  the  same  point  from  the 
street  with  the  foot-path,  but  turning  immediately  to  the  left, 
was  lost  in  the  trees,  and  did  not  appear  again  in  sight  of  the 
foot-path  till  it  suddenly  emerged,  close  by  the  house,  and 
sweeping  past  the  front  door,  disappeared  again  on  the  other 
side  of  the  house,  in  a  grove  that  concealed  the  stables. 

The  house  itself  was  two  stories  high,  with  dormer  win- 
dows in  the  Italian  villa  style,  looking  out  of  the  roof.  The 
piazza  extended  across  the  whole  front,  and  was  elevated  onlv 
one  step  from  the  ground.  The  first  room  on  the  right 
hand  side  of  the  hall,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the  study  :  back 
of  that  was  a  bed-room.  On  the  other  side  of  the  hall 
was  the  dining-room,  and  back  of  that,  large  pantries  and  a 
passage  leading  to  the  kitchen  which  was  a  separate  build- 


FELICITATIONS     AND     PRESENTATIONS.        85 

ing  attached  to  the  back  of  the  house.  Directly  opposite  the 
front  door,  between  the  dining-room,  and  study  doors,  and 
in  the  very  centre  of  the  hall,  started  the  broad  flight  of 
stairs ;  the  platform  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  was  carried  out 
into  a  large  circular  window,  that  projected  over  the  back 
porch.  In  this  second  story  was  the  parlor — over  the  study 
and  its  adjoining  bedroom — extending  the  whole  depth  of 
the  house,  with  windows  on  three  sides,  and  the  front  ones 
cut  down  to  the  floor,  and  opening  on  the  flat  and  balus- 
traded  roof  of  the  piazza.  Opposite  the  parlor  were  bed- 
rooms and  a  concealed  flight  of  stairs  to  the  attic  story,  and 
parts  unexplored.  Back  of  the  house  extended  for  some 
little  distance,  the  kitchen  garden,  and  then  the  land  swept 
suddenly  downward  to  the  green  meadows  and  glistening 
river,  that  lay  like  a  picture  in  the  distance. 

Bedminster  parsonage  was  the  very  place  for  a  donation- 
party.  Such  a  large  parlor  for  the  gathering  of  the  ladies, 
such  a  comfortable  piazza  for  the  elderly  men,  such  shady 
walks  for  the  young  people,  and  such  labyrinthine  windings 
among  the  trees,  and  over  the  green  grass  for  children's 
sports.  The  Wednesday  appointed  for  the  first  of  these 
parties  was  bright,  pleasant,  and  propitious.  Not  a  parish- 
ioner who  could  be  present  was  absent  Love  to  the  pastor, 
curiosity  to  see  the  pastor's  wife,  and  pride  in  the  new  par- 
sonage, were  motives  that  brought  all,  even  those  least  ad- 
dicted to  such  gatherings. 

The  pastor  was  a  man  to  look  upon  that  day.  Benig- 
nity shone  by  every  power  of  expression  from  his  whole  per- 
son, and  so  illuminated  his  countenance  that  he  might  have 
been  mistaken  for  a  handsome  man.  You  forgot  that  his 
form  was  rather  short  and  stout  and  his  features  heavy,  save 


86        FELICITATIONS     AND     PRESENTATIONS. 

his  eyes ;  even  the  shiny  bald  spot  in  the  midst  of  his  dark 
hair,  seemed  to  add  to  the  benignant  beauty  of  his  face ; 
and  his  new  suit  of  glistering  black  broadcloth,  by  the  po\ver 
of  contrast  at  least  with  the  discarded  rusty  dress  of  former 
daj-,  increased  his  personal  attractions.  But  Mr.  Poole's 
handsomeness  was  that  which  good  men  must  and  only  can 
have,  the  soul's  outshining  through  "  the  fleshly  mold ;"  a 
beauty  which  ever  shone  in  his  clear,  hazel  eye — an  eye 

"serene,  significant,  and  strong, 
Bright  In  its  quietness,  yet  brightening  oft 
With  quick  emotion  of  benevolence, 
*       *       *       *       and  that  mirth 
Which  aye  with  sober  wisdom  well  accords." 

Mr.  Lee,  of  Truro,  always  among  the  foremost  to  evince 
respect  for  the  excellent  pastor,  was  almost  the  first  to  ar- 
rive. He  anticipated  even  Mr.  Graves.  Mr.  Graves,  how- 
ever, was  close  upon  his  steps,  bearing  as  his  gift  a  volume 
of  revival  sermons,  which  had  been  more  effective  in  the 
delivery  than  they  were  like  to  be  in  print.  The  introduc- 
tion to  Mrs.  Poole,  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee,  and  their  children, 
Charlotte  and  Emma,  Nellie  and  Harry,  was  hardly  accom- 
plished, when  Mr.  Graves  approached,  with  a  countenance 
so  lugubrious  that  Kitty  White,  a  giddy  girl,  the  solitary 
apprentice  of  the  village  dressmaker,  declared  he  had  mis- 
taken the  happy  occasion  for  one  of  funereal  sorrow ;  a  re- 
mark that  seemed  verified  by  'young  Mr.  Graves,'  extraor- 
dinary salutation  to  his  pastor.  "  I  hope,  my  dear  pastor," 
he  began,  "  that  the  Lord  will  bless  this  union,  and  so  sanc- 
tify to  you  the  loss  of  your  former  beloved  wife,  that  you 
may  not  set  idolatrous  affections  on  this  good  lady." 

The  painful  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Poole,  the  evident 
misery  of  Mrs.  Poole,  the  tittering  of  the  village  girls,  and 


FEJ-ICITATIONB     AND     PRESENTATIONS.        87 

the  consternation  pictured  on  older  faces,  might  have  led  to 
some  still  more  awkward  conclusion,  but  for  the  ready  wit 
of  Mr.  Lee,  who  begun  so  immediately  a  conversation  with 
Mr.  Poole  asking,  and  himself  answering  questions,  that 
there  was  no  chance  even  for  an  awkward  pause,  and  every 
one  else  was  soon  set  to  talking  too. 

There  was  some  motion  at  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
caused  by  the  entrance  of  James  Stryker  with  his  family,  or 
rather  we  might  say  with  propriety,  James  Stryker's  family, 
with  James  Stryker,  for  he,  the  proper  head,  was  just  then 
at  the  tail  end  and  the  most  abashed  of  the  group.  Jim  led 
the  van  ;  Mrs.  Stryker  made  less  noise,  for  she  did  not  wear 
as  thick  cow-skin  shoes,  but  followed  with  equal  boldness  ; 
Cynthia  held  fast  to  her  mother's  dress ;  and  Mr.  Stryker 
followed  as  far  as  the  door,  but  there  deserted  the  ranks  and 
slipped  sidewise  into  the  first  chair  that  stood  inside  of  the 
room.  Mr.  Poole  quickly  advanced  with  Mrs.  Poole  toward 
the  embarrassed  head  of  the  Stryker  family.  The  crowd 
naturally  followed  the  pastor  and  his  wife.  And  Mr.  Lee 
and  Mr.  Graves  found  themselves  unexpectedly  standing 
alone  and  deserted,  at  the  other  end  of  the  long  room. 

Mr.  Lee  with  his  customary  politeness  entered  into  con- 
versation with  young  Mr.  Graves.  It  was  one  of  the  pious 
rules  which  Mr.  Graves  had  adopted  for  the  government  of 
his;  life,  a  life  that  was  entirely  governed  by  rules,  always  to 
speak  to  a  fellow-creature  of  his  immortal  interests  if  any 
opportunity  occurred.  An  opportunity  presented  itself 
now.  Mr  Graves  was  sadly  at  fault  how  to  proceed.  He 
stood  in  awe  of  Mr.  Lee  of  Truro,  whose  elegant  and 
courtly  manners  repelled  him.  Some  glimmering  con- 
sciousness that  his  usual  direct  appeals  were  not  the  pol 


88        FELICITATIONS     AND    PRESENTATIONS. 

ished  weapons  that  could  pierce  the  conscience  of  one  en- 
cased, as  Mr.  Lee  was,  in  the  armor  of  refined  cultivation, 
now  kept  him  silent.  Half  listening  and  half  turning  over 
in  his  own  mind  the  ways  and  means  of  doing  his  duty, 
Mr.  Graves'  ear  caught  the  word  "  snake,"  as  Mr.  Lee  made 
some  allusion  to  that  animal.  "  Snake  !" — it  suggested  an 
idea ;  Mr.  Graves  instantly  seized  upon  that  idea,  and  inter- 
rupted Mr.  Lee  with  what  he  would  have  called  "  a  word 
spoken  in  season." 

" '  A  snake,'  you  said,  sir.  A  snake,  a  very  suggestive 
topic.  The  Scriptures  contain  many  allusions  to  snakes. 
Sin  is  a  venomous  viper  in  the  heart.  Our  Saviour  was  typ- 
ified by  a  brazen  serpent.  Satan  is  the  old  serpent,  the 
dragon  ;  and  there  is  a  worm — some  believe  it  to  be  a  snake 
— that  never  dies.  I  hope,  dear  sir,  these  Scripture  truths 
occupy  your  attention  sometimes.  I  trust  that  in  all  your 
studies  (you  are  a  student  I  believe,  sir),  you  do  not  neglect 
that  which  the  snake  so  powerfully  reminds  us  of !" 

"  Sir,"  Mr.  Lee  replied,  politely  concealing  the  smile  that 
played  under  his  assumed  gravity,  "I  can  not  say  that  I  have 
paid  particular  attention  to  that  branch  of  natural  history 
which  relates  to  reptiles." 

Mr.  Lee  moved  away  from  Mr.  Graves  as  he  spoke,  passed 
round  the  room,  speaking  to  one  and  another,  and  soon  after 
found  himself  standing  by  Deacon  Hayes  on  the  front  piazza. 
The  good  deacon  sat  in  one  of  the  green  Windsor  arm-chairs, 
watching  the  young  people  as  they  flitted  about,  up  and 
down  the  garden-walks,  over  the  grass,  and  in  and  out 
among  the  trees. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Hayes  ?  I  am  glad  to  see  thai 
rheumatism  has  not  oonfiiied  you  to  the  house,  to-day." 


FELICITATIONS     AND     PRESENTATIONS.        89 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lee.  I  am  very  little  troubled  by  my 
old  enemy  now.  But  I  must  expect  it  again,  sir — I  must 
expect  it  again.  I  am  an  old  man.  Rheumatiz  and  other 
old  folks'  complaints  will  take  me  off  altogether  afore  very 
long.  And  the  day  '11  come  when  you  '11  set  in  my  seat,  an 
old  man  like  me,  amusing  yourself  watching  the  young- 
sters, as  I  do  to-day.  May  you,  sir,  when  that  time  comes, 
look  for'ard  to  your  last  change  with  gospel  hope  and  faith  ! 
And  you'll  not  mind  a  little  rheumatiz,  Mr.  Lee,  no  more  nor 
I  do." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  wishes,  Mr. 
Hayes,"  Mr.  Lee  answered.  "  To  know  that  I  have  such  an 
interest  in  your  thoughts,  and  I  trust  in  your  prayers,  too, 
sir,  gives  me  more  gratification  than  I  can  express." 

As  Mr.  Lee  and  his  family  were  among  the  first  to  arrive, 
so  were  they  the  very  first  to  leave.  All  were  pleased  with 
the  pastor's  wife.  Even  Charlotte  and  Emma  were  attracted 
by  some  sweet,  silent,  winning  influence,  and  acknowledged 
that  Mrs.  Poole  was  more  of  a  lady  than  they  had  expected 
to  meet.  But  they  were  glad  the  donation-party  was  over 
with.  Not  so  Nellie.  She  had  enjoyed  every  part  of  it : 
the  cake,  the  people,  the  romp  with  the  village  children 
among  the  trees,  the  kind  words  of  the  pastor,  the  pleasant 
looks  of  the  pastor's  wife,  whom  she  pronounced  "lovely 
sweet,"  and  the  meeting  with  George  and  Hetty  Hughes, 
which  last  was  always  a  pleasure  to  her. 

"  Nellie,"  asked  her  father,  as  the  largo  family  carriage 
entered  Truro  Park,  "  who  was  that  pretty  young  womau 
you  stuck  to  so  closely  this  afternoon  ?" 


90        FELICITATIONS     AND     PRESENTATIONS. 

"Why,  pa,"  and  Nellie's  face  beamed  the  brightest  sun- 
shine, "  that  was  Mrs.  Hughes,  my  Sunday-school  teacher." 

"  That  is  the  Sunday-school  teacher  who  has  so  captivated 
you  2" 

"  Yes,  pa,  don't  you  think  she  is  lovely  ?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered, smiling ;  " attractive, at  least,  both  in 
appearance  and  manners.  You.  go  to  see  her  very  often, 
Nellie :  did  you  ever  ask  her  to  come  and  see  you  ?" 

"  No,  pa,  I  never  thought  of  it." 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "  she  would  like  to  see  the  flowers  at 
Truro.  I  observe  she  cultivates  some  beautiful  specimens." 

"  Oh,  I  know  she  would  !  How  strange  I  never  thought 
to  invite  her.  And  as  to  flowers,  why,  pa,  she  knows  more 
about  them  than  Mr.  Silvey,  a  great  deal.  Her  father,  she 
says,  was  a  florist." 

"  Mrs.  Lee,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  addressing  his  wife,  '*  this  Mr. 
Hughes  and  his  wife  seem  to  be  very  intelligent  and  pleasant 
persons.  Suppose  the  next  time  you  invite  your  village 
friends  to  tea,  you  ask  them,  too." 

"  Certainly,  with  pleasure,"  answered  Mrs.  Lee. 

In  consequence  of  this  conversation  Hetty  Hughes  soon 
explored  in  company  with  Nellie,  the  beauties  of  Truro :  and 
when  Mrs.  Lee  gave  her  annual  "  tea-fight,"  as  Harry  called 
it,  Hetty  and  her  husband  were  invited,  as  well  as  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Poole,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Lowe,  and  their  eldest  daughters, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Slater.  From  this  day,  it  was  understood 
in  the  village,  that  the  inmates  of  the  tannery  belonged  to 
the  first  circle  in  Cedarville  society. 


X. 

fire  1  pile  tomes  a 


'•As  in  the  altering  of  a  lute,  the  strings  are  not  new,  but  the  tune  Is  mended! 
eo,  in  the  new  creature,  the  substance  of  the  soul  is  not  new,  but  is  new  tuned  by 
grace."—  THOMAS  WATSON. 

TT  was  about  two  years  after  Nellie  Lee  and  Jim  Stryker 
•*•  became  pupils  in  the  Sunday-school,  when,  one  day,  Mr. 
Poole  came  to  Truro,  to  consult  Mr.  Lee  on  a  matter  of  some 
interest  to  one  of  them,  at  least  ;  perhaps,  remotely  to  both. 

Nellie  was  running  races  with  Prince,  up  and  down  the 
graveled  walks,  in  and  out  under  the  cedars  and  maples,  and 
lindens,  whose  branches  were  so  low  that  the  tall  gray-hound 
could  hardly  follow  his  mistress.  At  last  she  came  bounding 
up  the  avenue  of  elms  and  sycamores  toward  the  house, 
throwing  full-blown  roses  behind  her  as  a  decoy  to  Prince, 
who  stopt  to  examine  each,  while  she  ran  ahead,  and  so  she 
won  the  race,  and  reached  the  house  first. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight,  and  Mr.  Lee  and  Mr.  Poole  involun- 
tarily suspended  their  conversation  to  watch  it.  Mr.  Poole 
left  his  seat  and  caught  her  in  his  arms  as  she  came  flying 
up  the  steps.  He  smoothed  back  her  ringlets  and  would 
have  kissed  her  brow,  but  she  put  up  her  red  lips  and  he 
much  preferred  their  sweetness. 

"What  have  you  in  your  apron,  Nellie?"  asked  her 
father. 


92  THE     THISTLE     BECOMES 

"  Nothing  but  roses  and  hawthorn,  to  make  a  collar  for 
Prince." 

"  Suppose  you  ask  Mr.  Silvey  to  cut  some  flowers  for  Mrs. 
Poole,"  said  her  father. 

"  Yes,  sir.  And  if  Mr.  Poole  will  take  them,  I  will  send 
her  a  bouquet  from  my  own  garden." 

Mr.  Poole  would  be  only  too  happy,  and  Nellie  scampered 
away.  The  message  to  the  gardener  was  delivered,  and  her 
own  garden  well-nigh  stripped  of  its  treasures.  But  Mr. 
Poole  and  her  father  were  so  engaged  in  conversation  she 
could  not  interrupt  them.  She  seated  herself  near  them  on 
the  steps,  and  Prince,  sitting  on  the  ground,  laid  his  head  in 
her  lap,  while  she  twined  her  roses  and  hawthorns  into  a 
wreath  for  his  neck.  She  did  not  listen  to  the  conversation 
.  between  Mr.  Poole  and  her  father,  but  as  a  word  came  to 
her  now  and  then,  she  did  wonder  what  Jim  Stryker's  name 
could  have  to  do  with  school,  and  college,  and  the  ministry. 
At  last  Mr.  Poole  rose  to  go,  and  as  she  stood  beside  him, 
ready  to  give  him  the  little  bouquet  from  her  own  garden, 
she  heard  her  father  say, 

"  If  you  feel  satisfied,  Mr.  Poole,  that  the  boy  is  sincerely 
pious  and  has  ordinary  talents,  you  may.  draw  on  me  for  the 
necessary  funds.  You  know  I  appropriate  a  certain  sum  to 
benevolence ;  not  as  much  as  I  ought  to,  I  suppose.  I  do 
not  profess  to  do  all  my  duty  in  these  matters.  Yes,  yes," 
laying  his  hand  on  Mr.  Poole's  arm,  as  the  latter  attempted 
to  say  something,  "  I  know  what  you  would  say.  I  wish  I 
was  a  better  man.  But,  bad  as  I  am,  my  conscience  would 
not  rest  satisfied  without  giving  something  to  benevolent 
objects,  and  I  am  really  obliged  to  you  for  helping  me  in  the 
discharge  of  this  duty." 


A    GARDEN-PLANT.  98 

Mr.  Poole  kissed  Nellie  again  for  her  flowers.  His  one- 
horse,  non-descript  vehicle,  half-gig,  half-buggy,  and  more 
than  half-worn  out,  issued  at  his  call  from  the  shade  of  the 
trees  where  Caesar  had  it  in  charge ;  and  the  good  pastor 
jogged  down  the  avenue,  looking  as  contented  and  happy  as 
the  trees  that  smiled  complacent  blessings  over  his  head. 

"  Pa,  what  did  Mr.  Poole  say  about  Jim  Stryker  ?"  asked 
Nellie,  as  soon  as  the  pastor  was  fairly  gone. 

"  And  what  do  you  know  about  Jim  Stryker  ?"  asked  her 
father. 

"  Oh,  I  know  him.  Please  tell  me  what  Mr.  Poole  said 
of  him." 

"  You,  know  him,"  said  her  father  with  surprise.  "  When 
did  you  make  his  acquaintance  ?" 

"  I  see  him  every  Sunday  in  the  Sunday-school ;  and  I 
know  he  is  the  son  of  Mr.  Stryker  the  shoemaker,  at  the  end 
of  the  village  clown  there — that  is  all  I  know  about  him — 
and  now,  pa,  won't  you  please  tell  me  what  you  and  Mr. 
Poole  could  have  to  say  about  him  ?" 

"  Well,  Nellie,  it  seems  that  this  young  Stryker  is  pious 
and  studious ;  he  wants  an  education,  and  desires  to  be  a 
minister :  and  Mr.  Poole  called  to  see  if  I  could  help  him  in 
the  prosecution  of  his  purpose." 

Nellie's  face  was  full  of  amazement.  Her  blue  eyes  grew 
larger  and  rounder,  and  her  mouth  contracted  into  its  sober- 
est expression,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  look  into  some  very 
grave  and  astonishing  and  impenetrable  subject.  But  the 
serious  air  melted  away  into  a  comic  one.  Her  eyes  twinkled : 
her  mouth  relaxed :  she  put  both  hands  up  to  her  face — little, 
white,  chubby  hands — that  did  not  half  cover  the  little  face, 
spread  out  though  they  were  to  their  largest  dimensions;  but 


14  THE     THISTLE     BECOMES. 

the  hands  could  not  keep  the  mouth  still,  nor  shut  in  the 
laughter ;  and  Nellie  laughed  so  heartily,  and  tried  so  hard 
not  to  laugh,  that  her  father  had  to  laugh,  too. 

"  Nellie,"  he  said,  at  length,  taking  his  seat  upon  the  settee, 
and  lifting  her  up  upon  his  knee,  "  what  are  you  laughing 
at?  I  should  think — you  have  grown  to  be  such  a  good 
little  girl,  since  you  have  been  in  the  Sunday-school — that 
this  matter  of  young  Stryker's  would  have  pleased  you  in  a 
different  way." 

Nellie  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  before  she  could 
speak,  each  time  clasping  her  hands  to  her  mouth,  as  her 
way  was,  to  smother  the  laughter. 

"  Oh,  pa,  it  seems  so  droll,  so  funny,"  and  away  she  went 
again  into  another  peal  of  merriment. 

Caesar  appeared  just  then,  and  asked  Mr.  Lee  for  some  di- 
rections in  reference  to  the  horses.  They  talked  so  long, 
that  Mr.  Lee's  mind  was  wholly  diverted  from  the  subject  of 
Jim  Stryker  and  the  ministry,  and  would  not  have  returned 
to  it,  perhaps,  but  for  Nellie.  She  had  been  thinking  of  it 
all  the  while,  and  had  grown  quite  serious,  and  resumed  the 
conversation  now  with  becoming  gravity. 

"Pa,"  she  began,  looking  down,  and  playing  with  his 
watch-chain ;  "  I  have  been  thinking  about  what  you  told 
me,  and  it  don't  seem  to  me  as  if  Jim  Stryker  ought  to  be  a 
minister !" 

"  You  take  an  uncommon  interest  in  James  Stryker. 
What  is  he  to  you  ?  or  what  do  you  know  about  the  pro- 
priety of  his  becoming  a  minister  ?"  and  Mr.  Lee,  who  liked 
to  dispense  his  charities  with  as  little  trouble  to  himself  as 
possible,  asking  few  questions  and  yielding  readily  to  the 
suggestions  of  his  wife,  or  of  Mr.  Poole,  was  evidently  an- 


A    GARDEN-PLANT.  05 

noyed  by  the  doubt  suggested  in  reference  to  the  judicious- 
ness of  this  present  benefaction. 

"Well,  pa,"  Nellie  answered  with  great  emphasis,  "all 
that  I  know  is,  that  it  seems  to  me,  that  Jim  Stryker  never 
will  be  fit  to  be  a  minister  /" 

"  Why  do  you  think  so  ?"  her  father  asked. 

"  Oh,  I  know  so  ;  I  am  sure  of  it,"  she  answered  impetu- 
ously. 

"  But  why  are  you  so  '  sure1  ?    Is  he  a  bad  boy,  Nellie  ?" 

"  No,  pa,  I  never  heard  that  he  was.  I  should  think  he 
was  ill-natured  ;  but  then  I  did  n't  know  before  that  he  was 
pious,  and  perhaps  he  only  was  solemn  when  I  thought  he 
was  cross.  But,  pa,  he  does  n't  look  one  bit  like  a  minister, 
and  I  don't  believe  he  ever  can  be  one  !" 

"  My  dear,"  said  her  father,  reprovingly,  "  you  have  not 
given  me  a  single  reason  for  your  opinion  yet." 

"  Well,  pa,  I  have  n't  got  a  reason.  I  only  know  he  is 
not  fit  for  a  minister,  because  he  is  n't ;  and  that's  all  I 
know  about  it :"  and  Nellie  flew  off  to  catch  Prince,  who  for 
some  time  had  been  looking  wistfully  at  her  from  the  gravel 
walk,  wagging  his  tail  and  asking,  as  plainly  as  dog  could 
ask,  for  another  race  among  the  trees. 

Mr.  Lee's  countenance  had  lost  the  air  of  satisfaction  it 
wore  when  Mr.  Poole  left  him.  He  sought  counsel  of  his 
wife,  though  well  aware  that  she  would  fully  endorse  the 
opinion  of  the  pastor,  whatever  that  might  be.  She  was  sit- 
ting in  her  own  little  room,  off  the  great  parlor. 

*'  Mr.  Poole  has  been  here  to  ask  aid  for  a  young  man  in 
the  village  who  wishes  to  study  for  the  ministry,"  Mr.  Lee 
remarked  to  his  wife. 

"  Ah  !  you  promised  it,  I  suppose  ?" 


96  THE     THISTLE     BECOMES 

"  I  did.  But  since  Mr.  Poole  left,  Nellie  has  put  me  * 
little  out  of  the  notion  of  it." 

"  Nellie  has  put  you  out  of  the  notion  !  What  can  Nellie 
kr,ow,  or  care  about  such  a  matter  ?" 

"  Sure  enough,"  answered  Mr.  Lee ;  "  but  she  declares 
that  the  young  man  is  not  fit  to  be  a  minister." 

"  Not  fit  ?    How  does  she  know  whether  he  is  fit  or  not  ?" 

"  Of  course  she  gives  no  reason  for  her  opinion.  You 
never  heard  that  child  give  a  reason  for  any  thing,  Mrs.  Lee. 
Yet  her  opinions,  notions,  prejudices,  instincts,  intuitions,  or 
whatever  you  choose  to  call  them,  are  so  often  right,  that 
they  may  be  in  this  instance.  What  if  her  childish  percep- 
tions detect  some  natural  incongruity  between  the  office  of 
the  ministry  and  the  peculiarities  of  this  village  youth — a 
sort  of  un fitness  which  only  a  child's  nice  and  quick  sen- 
sibilities could  discover !  I  own  to  some  doubt ;  Nellie's 
convictions  leave  me  uncertain  how  to  act." 

"  I  never  knew  you,  Mr.  Lee,  attach  so  much  importance 
to  Nellie's  opinions.  For  my  part,  in  such  a  matter  as  this, 
I  should  be  governed  by  Mr.  Poole's  judgment.  What  does 
he  think  of  the  young  man  ?" 

"  He  thinks  well  of  him,  of  course,"  Mr.  Lee  replied,  "  or 
he  would  not  have  applied  to  me  in  his  behalf.  He  says  he 
is  consistent  as  a  church  member ;  his  desire  to  enter  the 
ministry  is  very  strong ;  and  his  talents  arc  fair ;  at  least 
what  he  wants  in  quickness  he  makes  up  for  by  habits  of 
close  application  to  his  studies.  Mr.  Poole  thinks  that  in  a 
better  school  than  the  village  affords,  and  in  new  associ- 
ations, his  faculties  will  brighten  up,  and  he  may  prove  to  be 
mwe  of  a  man  than  he  now  promises  to  make." 

His  wife  answered  as  if  there  could  be  no  cause  for  hesita 


A    GARDEN  -PLANT.  97 

tion ;  "  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  do  better  than  yield  to  Mr. 
Poole's  advice.  Send  the  boy  to  school  for  a  year  or  two,  at 
least,  and  give  him  a  fair  trial." 

The  race  between  Nellie  and  Prince  was  interrupted  a 
second  time,  by  the  appearance  on  the  gravel  walk  of  her 
brother  Harry,  who  was  spending  his  summer  vacation  at 
home. 

"  Oh,  Harry  !"  cried  Nellie,  running  up  to  him,  "  I  have 
such  news !  What  do  you  think  ?  Jim  Stryker  is  going  to 
be  a  minister !" 

"  Jim  Stryker  ?  What,  that  boy  with  red  hair,  little  eyes 
and  no  eye-lashes,  and  face  so  freckled  and  burned  that  it 
looks  like  a  very  variegated  piece  of  mahogany?"  Harry 
affected  to  have  somewhat  forgotten  his  old  village  acquaint- 
ance after  the  immensely  long  absence  of  eighteen  months, 
minus  vacations. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Nellie  answered.  "  That  boy  who  sits  directly 
opposite  to  me  in  Sunday-school ;  and  who  always  looks  so 
cross  if  I  chance  to  look  up  from  my  book.  I'  m  sure  I 
would  n't  look  at  him,  if  he  did  not  sit  where  I  could  not 
help  it.  Mr.  Poole  has  been  here  this  afternoon,  Harry,  to 
talk  to  father  about  it,  and  father  has  promised  to  pay  for 
his  education,  or  something  of  that  sort,  I  believe." 

"  I  declare  !"  Harry  ejaculated.  "  That  fellow  is  to  be  a 
minister,  is  he  ?  and  to  teach  father  and  mother  and  the  rest 
of  us,  good  manners  1  That  is  a  joke  !  I  should  like  to  see 
him  once  dressed  up  in  a  white  cravat  and  black  coat — 
they  'd  set  off  his  mottled  face,  would  n't  they  ?  I  guess  it 
will  be  hard  work  to  find  black  kid  gloves  large  enough  for 
his  paws.  And  then  his  red  hair,  won't  it  look  like  fire, 

5 


98  THE   THISTLE    BECOMES    A    GARDEN-PLANT. 

when  he  preaches  about  Sinai  ?  And  I  know  from  the  cut  of 
his  jib  he  will  preach  about  nothing  but  the  law  and  damna- 
tion !" 

"  Oh,  Harry,  please  don't !"  Nellie  said,  half  crying.  "  I 
wish  you  had  never  gone  to  boarding-school."  And  Nellie 
ran  away  from  him  into  the  house,  to  return  again  the  next 
minute,  lest  Harry  should  be  offended,  and  to  ask  him  to  go 
with  her  to  feed  the  rabbits. 

About  the  same  time  that  Harry  returned  to  his  boarding- 
school,  Jim  Stryker  left  Oedarville  to  pursue  his  education  in 
a  distant  town.  He  found  a  home  in  the  house  of  a  minister, 
where  he  took  care  of  the  hor.se,  cow,  and  garden,  and  did 
chores  between  times,  while  he  attended  regularly  the  in- 
structions of  a  large  academy;  and  grew  up  into  a  tall,  large- 
boned,  thin  and  ungainly  figure  of  a  man. 

Nellie  missed  him  at  first  from  the  Sunday-school.  But 
she  soon  forgot  him,  and  almost  forgot  that  there  ever  had 
been  such  a  boy  as  Jim  Stryker,  and  his  ugly  dog,  in  the 
world. 


•XL 

ittr  J  lote  utte  feminata. 


"A  lily  thon  wast  when  I  saw  thee  first, 

A  lily-bud  not  opened  quite, 

That  hourly  grew  more  pure  and  white, 
By  morning,  and  noon-tide,  and  evening  nursed: 
In  all  of  nature  thou  hadst  thy  share  • 

Thou  wast  waited  on 

By  the  wind  and  sun  ; 
The  rain  and  the  dew  for  thee  took  care  ; 
Jt  seemed  thou  never  couldst  be  more  fair." 

JAKES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 

"IVTELLIE  LEE'S  religious  training  under  her  Sunday-school 
-*-*  teacher,  advanced  more  successfully  than  her  secular 
education.  This,  saving  the  knowledge  picked  up  by  shreds 
and  bits  from  George  and  Hetty  Hughes,  was  at  a  stand  still. 
But  Nellie  was  coming  under  a  new  regimen,  for  which  she 
had  been  in  a  course  of  moral  preparation.  A  change,  in 
the  uneventful  current  of  her  life,  was  brought  about  by  a 
visit  of  brother  Norton  to  the  old  homestead,  some  four 
years  or  more  after  Nellie  had  been  under  Hetty's  tuition. 

Very  happy  was  Nellie  to  hear  that  brother  Norton  would 
spend  the  Christmas  holidays  at  Truro.  Since  she  did  not 
expect  to  like  the  book  he  might  bring,  any  better  than  its 
predecessors,  she  was,  probably,  more  happy  in  the  expecta- 
tion of  seeing  him,  than  of  receiving  his  present. 

The  day  before  Christmas,  Mr.  Norton  Lee  arrived.  He 
did  not  merely  kiss  Nellie,  and  toss  her  up  in  the  air,  and 


100  THE     WILD-FLOWER 

then  forget  all  about  her,  as  Robert  Lee  would  have  done ; 
but  he  kissed  her  and  set  her  on  his  knee,  and,  while  he 
talked  with  the  others,  he  played  with  her  bright  ringlets, 
and  kissed  by  turns  her  forehead,  eyes,  nose,  mouth,  and 
cheeks,  till  Nellie  laughed  merrily  at  the  droll  places  where 
he  chose  to  kiss  her ;  and,  once  and  awhile,  he  had  some- 
thing to  say  to  her. 

That  same  afternoon,  when  the  rest  had  disappeared  from 
the  dining-room,  Mr.  Norton  Lee  began  to  catechize  his 
little  sister  Nellie,  to  find  out  the  extent  of  her  acquirements 
and  much  shocked  he  was,  to  discover  their  ineagerness. 

"  Nellie,  what  are  you  studying  now  ?"  he  began. 

"  Studying  ?"  asked  Nellie,  looking  up  in  his  face  with 
some  surprise  at  so  uninteresting  a  query. 

"  Yes.  What  are  you  learning  ?  What  does  Madame 
Dupongeau  teach  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  much.  She  is  too  busy  with  the  others.  But 
brother  Norton,  you  've  not  asked  to  see  Prince  yet ;  he  's 
scratching  at  the  door  now ;  he  wants  his  dinner." 

Nellie  jumped  down  from  her  brother's  knee  and  let  the 
grayhound  in.  Mr.  Norton  waited  patiently  while  Prince's 
dinner  was,  literally,  discussed,  for  Nellie  made  him  beg  for 
every  bit,  ana  required  him  to  beg  with  every  possible  art 
of  dog-courtesy.  She  and  Prince  seemed  to  enjoy  each 
other's  society,  as  much  as  Prince  did  eating  his  dinner ; 
and  Mr.  Norton  felt  that  he  was  rather  neglected  and  over- 
looked. At  last,  however,  Prince  was  dismissed  with  the 
injunction,  "  not  to  ask  for  another  morsel,"  and  Mr.  Norton 
resumed  his  inquiries. 

"Tell  me  now,  Nellie,  what  Madame  Dupongeau  does 
teach  you." 


UNDER     EXAMINATION.  101 

"  Why,  she  teaches  me  to  write  and  to  spell,  of  course," 
Nellie  answered. 

"  Is  that  all  ?" 

"  That 's  enough,  /  think,  Brother  Norton." 

"  Enough  !     Do  you  not  wish  to  know  something  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  know  enough.  Mrs.  Hughes  teaches  me  a  great 
deal." 

"  Mrs.  Hughes  ?  who  is  she  ?  and  what  does  she  teach  you  ?" 

"  Why,  don't  you  know  Mrs.  Hughes  ?  She  is  my  Sun- 
day-school teacher." 

"  Oh  !  she  teaches  you  the  Bible  then  ?" 

"  She  teaches  me  that  and  some  other  things  too." 

"  What  else,  pray  ?" 

"  Why,  how  to  sew,  and  how  to  read  correctly,  and  how 
to  plant  garden  seeds  and  trim  bushes  and  train  vines." 
Nellie  repeated  these  accomplishments  with  an  air  of  tri- 
umph, that  said,  "  what  more  would  you  have  me  learn, 
pray  ?" 

Mr.  Norton  Lee  smiled,  and  inquired  if  the  Sunday-school 
teacher  taught  her  all  these  things  on  Sundays.  Nellie 
shook  her  curls  at  him  for  asking  such  a  naughty  question, 
and  informed  him  that  she  visited  Mrs.  Hughes  almost 
every  day,  and  hardly  ever  without  learning  something. 

"  What  kind  of  books  does  she  teach  you  to  read  ?" 
Norton  inquired. 

"  Oh,  any  I  like.  At  least  any  she  has.  They  are  all 
good  books,  she  says,  and  she  lets  me  help  myself  to  them." 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  "  what  books  have  you  helped  yourself 
to?" 

"  Ever  so  many.  Among  others,  there's  '  Henry  and  his 
Bearer,'  '  Aladdin,  or  the  Wonderful  Lamp,'  '  Robinson  Cru- 


102  THE     WILD- FLOWER 

see,' '  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,'  '  Dairyman's  Daughter,'  and  a 
book  called  '  The  Looking-glass,'  and  that  I  am  reading 
now." 

"But,  Nellie,"  asked  Norton,  with  increasing  concern, 
"  please  tell  me  if  you  know  any  thing  of  history  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Nor  of  grammar  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Nor  of  arithmetic  ?" 

"No." 

"  Well,  you  study  geography,  at  least  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't,  though." 

"  Why,  you  poor  little  ignoramus.  How  old  are  you, 
Nellie  ?" 

"  I  can't  say  exactly.  It  must  be  almost  ten ;  for  I'll  be 
ten  next  birthday,  and  that's  just  after  New  Year's." 

"  Ten  years  old  and  knows  nothing !"  Mr.  Norton  Lee  so- 
liloquized. "  It  is  too  bad.  What  do  they  mean  by  ne- 
glecting her  so !"  He  put  Nellie  down  from  his  knee,  and 
left  the  room  hastily,  without  saying  another  word  to  her. 

Nellie  invited  Prince  up  stairs  to  her  play-room,  and 
never  suspected  that  she  was  the  subject  of  conversation  in 
her  mother's  sitting-room,  and  her  father's  library,  that  after- 
noon. 

To  his  mother's  sitting-room  went  Mr.  Norton  Lee,  when 
he  left  Nellie  so  unceremoniously. 

"  Mother,"  he  began,  the  moment  he  entered,  "  what  do 
you  all  mean  by  neglecting  Nellie  so  ?" 

Mrs.  Lee  dropped  her  work  and  looked  up  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  neglecting  Nellie,"  he  continued,  "  shamefully  ne- 
glecting her.  You  are  all  so  full  of  yourselves,  that  you  for- 


U  N  D  E  K     fc  X  A  M  I  N  A  T  I  O  N .  103 

get  the  claims  of  this  child  on  your  attention,  and  are  letting 
her  grow  up  as  she  may.  I  noticed  it  when  here  a  year 
ago  ;  but  I  did  not  think  she  was  so  completely  overlooked 
and  uncared  for  as  she  is.  Why,  the  commonest  child  in 
the  village  school  knows  more,  I  '11  be  bound,  than  she  does. 
You  ought  to  look  into  this  matter,  mother.  You  sit  here 
by  yourself,  and  let  every  one  do  as  they  please  ;  but  it  is 
not  right,  mother ;  you  ought  to  give  Nellie  some  of  your 
attention." 

"  Why,  Norton,"  Mrs.  Lee  looked  very  much  troubled, 
"  why,  I  had  no  idea — I  thought — I  am  sure  I  did  not  know 
that  Nellie  was — Madame  Dupouceau  seems  very  faithful, 
and  I  never  heard  any  complaints." 

"  Mother,  she  knows  nothing,  and  she  is  not  learning  any 
thing  either.  She  told  me  just  now  that  Madame  Dupon- 
ceau  does  not  attempt  to  teach  her  any  thing  but  writing 
and  spelling." 

"  What  does  Madame  Duponceau  mean  !  I  thought  she 
was  doing  her  duty  to  the  child.  Keally,  I  never  suspected 
any  thing  amiss,  Norton.  I  am  glad  you  told  me.  I  will 
see  Madame  immediately,  and  charge  her  to  give  more  at- 
tention to  Nellie." 

Mrs.  Lee  rose,  with  the  bewildered  look  of  one  unused  to 
exertion  who  determines  to  do  something.  Norton  felt  sorry 
that  he  had  troubled  her.  She  was  not  the  one  to  manage 
such  a  matter. 

"  My  dear  mother,"  he  said,  "  do  not  speak  to  Madame. 
At  least  not  yet.  Let  me  consult  with  father  first ;  and 
you  must  promise  to  second  our  efforts  in  whatever  we  agree 
upon." 

"  Certainly,  my  son,  in  whatever  is  right,"  and  Mrs.  Lee 


104  THE     WILD-FLOWiiK 

with  an  air  of  some  relief,  seated  herself  again  and  resumed 
her  work  ;  at  least  she  took  it  in  her  hands,  but  the  needle 
was  quiet  for  a  long,  long  while.  She  was  thinking,  and  a 
tear-drop  in  her  eye  answered  the  thought.  It  was  one  of 
those  seasons  of  painful  consciousness  of  uselessness  which 
helpless  persons  will  have.  But  are  they  so  useless  ?  Is 
there  not  power  of  some  sort  in  the  silent  inactive  goodness, 
where  others  see  that  the  ability  to  do,  and  not  the  wish 
to  do,  is  wanting  ? 

Mv.  Norton  Lee  sought  his  father  in  the  library.  Still  re- 
proaching himself  with  annoying  his  gentle  mother,  he  en- 
tered on  the  subject  anew  with  rather  less  vehemence. 

"  Father,"  he  began,  "  I  have  been  talking  with  mother 
about  Nellie.  Her  education  is  not  advancing  as  it  might. 
She  knows  positively  nothing  for  a  child  of  her  age,  and  does 
not  seem  to  be  in  the  way  of  learning  any  thing." 

Mr.  Lee's  countenance  clouded  a  little,  as  if  he  felt  like  one 
called  to  an  account,  and  did  not  fancy  the  interference. 
But  he  answered  very  quietly : 

"  Nellie  is  doing  better  than  you  imagine,  Norton.  You 
are  mistaken  in  saying  that  she  knows  nothing.  Book 
knowledge,  I  confess,  she  has  not  yet  acquired.  But  she  has 
learned  much  that  books  can  not  teach  ;  and  in  that  knowl- 
edge which  is  the  basis  of  practical  wisdom,  she  might  put 
many  who  are  older  to  the  blush." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  sir  ?'' 

"  You  will  when  you  understand  Nellie  better,"  his  father 
answered.  "  In  the  mean  time,"  he  continued,  "  it  would  be 
well,  perhaps,  to  begin  to  urge  on  her  studies.  I  have  rather 
neglected  the  matter,  partly  through  inattention,  and  partly. 
I  think,  from  a  fear  of  spoiling  on*1  of  the  most  natural  char- 


UNDEK     EXAMINATION.  106 

acters  I  have  ever  known.  However,  1  Avill  charge  Madame 
Dupongeau  to  take  her  in  hand  immediately." 

"  Do  you  think  Madame  Duponc_eau  well  qualified  for  her 
position  ?"  Norton  asked.  "  If  the  proper  person  to  be  in- 
trusted with  the  care  of  Nellie,  would  she  have  neglected 
her,  as  she  evidently  has  done  ?" 

Mr.  Lee  acknowledged  that  there  was  ground  for  dissatis- 
faction both  with  her  general  qualifications  and  her  remiss- 
ness  in  regard  to  Nellie.  Norton  found  him  prepared  to 
listen  to  his  suggestions ;  and  the  result  of  the  long  con- 
ference was  a  decision  to  remove  the  whole  family  to  the 
city  of  New  York,  where  the  children  might  receive  instruc- 
tion in  the  higher  branches  of  an  English  education  from 
competent  teachers,  while  Madame  Duponccau  should  teach 
them  French,  and  have  the  general  oversight  of  their  studies. 
This  arrangement  should  continue  till  the  next  spring,  when 
Charlotte  and  Emma  might  dispense  with  Madame's  serv- 
ices, and  a  more  suitable  governess  should  be  secured  for 
Maria  and  Nellie.  This  last,  Mr.  Norton  Lee  promised  to 
make  his  own  business. 

Madame  Duponceau  (who  did  not  know  that  the  removal 
to  New  York  was  the  precursor  of  her  own  dismissal  from 
the  family),  and  Charlotte  and  Emma  were  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  a  winter  in  the  city.  The  rest  of  the  house- 
hold were  full  of  regret  at  the  desertion  of  Truro.  Mrs.  Lee 
loved  the  retirement  of  the  country.  Mr.  Lee  knew  that 
there  were  no  occupations  in  the  city  which  could  afford  him 
the  pleasure  and  relaxation  of  his  country  cares.  Rupert 
shunned  society,  such  society  at  least,  as  would  crowd  around 
his  father's  family  in  the  city,  and  yet  was  unwilling  to  abide 
in  solitary  occupation  of  Truro.  He  resolved  at  last  to  spend 

5* 


106  A    WILD-FLOWEK     UNDEll     EXAMINATION. 

the  winter  in  seeking  congenial  amusements  in  the  South. 
Nellie,  who  was  too  happy  at  Truro  to  be  pleased  with  any 
change,  was  sorry  to  leave  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Poole,  and  sorrier  still  to  know  that  she  must  ap- 
ply herself  to  study,  no  more  to  go  as  she  pleased,  without 
let  or  hinderance.  She  was  to  take  Prince  with  her ;  that 
was  some  comfort.  But  she  and  Prince  would  find  no  such 
liberty  for  their  sports  in  city  rooms  and  city  streets,  as  the 
country  afforded. 

Hetty  Hughes  cried  with  Nellie  at  this  unexpected  separa- 
tion. There  was  a  little  grave  covered  up  under  the  snow,  in 
that  part  of  the  church-yard  where  the  old  parsonage  had 
stood,  and  since  the  summer  day  when  little  Georgie  was 
laid  there,  Hetty  had  been  often  sorrowful.  Nellie  had  been 
her  best  comforter,  and  she  almost  felt  as  if  she  were  about 
to  lose  another  child.  But  they  would  write  to  each  other. 


XII. 

Dtowties  0f  %  same  Mentis  f  0m0. 

"  It  Is  not  timber,  lead,  and  stone, 
An  architect  requires  alone, 

To  finish  a  great  building ; 
The  palace  were  but  half  complete, 
Could  he  by  any  chance  forget 
The  earring  and  the  gliding." 

COWPKR. 

"  TTTHAT  in  the  world,  Nellie,  have  you  there  ?"  asked  Mr. 

'"  Lee,  as  he  observed  Nellie  lavishing  her  attentions 
on  a  little  flower-pot  she  carried  in  her  hands,  when  on  their 
way  to  New  York. 

"  This  is  one  of  my  English  daisies,"  Nellie  answered, 

"  Why,  pray,  have  you  selected  that  of  all  your  treasures, 
to  carry  with  you  ?  To  remember  Mrs.  Hughes  by  ?"  he 
added,  archly. 

"  Oh,  no,  pa — not  that — but  then — " 

"  Then  what  I" 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,  the  flower  would  help  me — " 

"  Help  you  to  be  good,  I  suppose,  as  Mrs.  Hughes  would 
have  you  be !" 

"  Yes,  pa,  that 's  it.  Every  time  I  get  angry  I  mean  to 
look  at  the  daisy,  and  it  will  remind  me  of  Cousin  Hetty's 
face,  and  Mr.  Hughes'  solemn  voice." 

"  Cousin  Hetty — who  is  she  ?     Mrs.  Hughes  ?" 

Nellie  nodded. 


108  V  A  HIE  TIES     01' 

"  Rather  too  intimate  with  the  tanner  and  his  wife,"  said 
Mr.  Lee  to  himself,  with  a  half-displeased  look,  and  dropped 
the  conversation. 

Nellie  had  frequent  occasions  during  the  winter  for  look- 
ing at  the  daisy.  Madame  Dupon^eau  was  irritable  :  Maria, 
with  whom  she  was  obliged  to  room,  in  the  cramped  quarters 
of  the  boarding-house,  was  peevish,  obstinate,  and  hard  to 
please :  the  studies  were  irksome  :  the  restraint  to  which  she 
was  subject  on  every  side  was  odious,  and  to  make  all  these 
•  matters  worse,  Nellie  was  passionate.  However,  in  spite  of 
many  crying  spells  and  uncomfortable  experiences,  Nelli« 
got  through  the  winter  not  without  enjoyment. 

Mrs.  Seymour,  the  head  of  the  boarding-house,  the  widow 
of  an  officer  of  the  navy,  and  an  old  friend  of  Mr.  Lee,  was 
the  quintessence  of  good  nature  and  kindliness  of  heart, 
Her  cosy  little  room  at  the  end  of  the  long  hall,  on  the  first 
floor,  was  always  genial  with  other  light  and  warmth  than 
that  of  the  Liverpool  fire  that  burned  in  its  jaunty  little 
grate.  In  this  room  Mrs.  Seymour  saw  her  company,  made 
up  her  accounts,  took  her  after-dinner  nap,  read,  sewed,  or 
meditated,  putting  on  or  off  the  cares  of  the  boarding-house 
keeper  as  she  pleased :  and  here,  it  was  well  understood, 
no  boarder  could  enter  without  special  license.  But  Nellie 
soon  obtained  unrestricted  liberty  of  Mrs.  Seymour's  parlor ; 
she  could  come  into  and  go  out  of  it  how  and  when  she 
pleased,  with  a  hop,  skip  and  jump,  running  a  full  tilt  race 
with  Piince,  or  walking  demurely  as  ever  she  could ;  no 
matter  what  Mrs.  Seymour  was  doing,  whether  she  was  en 
tertaiuiuof  a  visitor  on  the  sofa,  that  stood  between  and 

O  * 

against  the  two  windows,  at  the  left  side  of  the  door,  or  doz- 
ing in  the  large  arm-chair  that  occupied  the  left  corner  of 


THE  SAME  GENUS  HOMO.  109 

th«  fire-place,  or  reading  the  large  Bible  that  lay  on  the  little 
table  to  the  right  of  the  mantel-piece,  or  completely  abstracted 
in  adding  up  long  columns  of  figures,  and  setting  down  long 
columns  of  items,  at  the  mysterious  secretary  which  stood 
against  the  wall,  opposite  the  sofa,  or  bustling  in  and  out  of 
the  door  close  by  the  secretary,  that  opened  into  a  large 
pantry,  wh^re  such  order,  neatness,  profusion  of  good  things/ 
and  delecta  Ae  fragrance  of  good  things  captivated  the  eye 
and  nose,  if  but  a  glance  was  afforded  inwards,  or  a  stray 
breath  floated  outward,  as  tickled  the  palate,  and  reminded 
one  of  the  condition  of  the  appetite.     In  this  little  room 
Nellie  spent  some  of  the  happiest  hours  she  ever  did  spend 
in  the  Babel  city  of  New  York.     She  would  bring  her  books, 
and  nestle  in  one  corner  of  the  sofa,  while  Prince  stretched 
himself  over  the  remaining  space,  for  an  hour  at  a  time, 
oblivious  to  Madame  Dupongeau,  and  all  other  causes  of  an- 
noyance or  disquietude :  or  she  would  sit,  sewing  in  hand, 
and  listen  to  the  landlady's  stories,  funny  and  sad  ones,  with 
morals  appended,  or  a  pleasant  word  of  advice  or  encourage- 
ment put.  in  parenthetically.      The  long  winter  evenings, 
when  their  own  parlor  was  filled  with  company,  or  the  rest 
of  the  family,  except  Madame  Dupougeau  and  Maria,  had 
gone  to  parties,  or  operas,  or  somewhere  else,  Nellie  spent  in 
Mrs.  Seymour's  little  room :  and  she  and  Perry  Seymour 
would  parch  corn,  make  molasses-candy,  eat  apples  for  the 
sake  of  counting  the  seeds,  or  do  some  other  absurd  thing, 
for  there  was  nothing  Mrs.  Seymour  would  not  let  them  do. 
Nellie  had  many  pleasant  walks  with  Perry  Seymour.    She 
never  cared  to  go  out  alone  in  the  great  city,  and  she  cared 
about  as  little  to  go  with  any  one  else,  for  no  one,  except 
Perry,  would  let  her  stop  and  look  at  what  caught  her  eye, 


110  VARIETIES     OF 

or  ruii,  or  skip  when  the  fancy  took  her.  But  it  made  no 
difference  to  Perry  how  long  she  stopped,  or  how  fast  she 
ran.  He  was  always  interested  in  what  amused  her,  and 
every  thing  that  pleased  the  one  or  the  other  was  sure  to  fix 
both  pair  of  eyes,  and  draw  forth  two  sets  of  exclamations. 
People  sometimes  stared  to  see  two  children,  skipping  along, 
hand  in  hand,  in  Broadway,  like  children,  and  not  like  pre- 
mature graduates  at  the  school  of  deportment;  but  those 
who  looked,  except  the  very  little  apes  of  men  and  women, 
usually  were  shocked  in  no  other  way  than  with  delight  at 
the  sight  of  two  such  bright,  handsome  faces,  the  one  shak- 
ing sunshine  out  of  light  curls,  and  smiling  it  out  of  blue 
eyes,  and  the  other  darting  it  out  of  hazel-gray  eyes,  or 
catching  it  among  his  thick  locks  of  brown  hair. 

Perry  Seymour  had  another  brother,  older  than  himself, 
and  very  different  from  himself,  whom  we  would  not  take 
the  trouble  to  describe,  were  it  not  that  he  had  full  posses- 
sion of  the  rights  to  the  little  room,  and  must,  therefore, 
sometimes  appear  as  one  in  the  circle  there,  of  which  we 
choose  to  regard  Nellie  as  the  center.  Albert  Seymour,  Esq., 
a  young  man  of  more  pretension  than  of  brains,  was  doted 
upon  by  his  mother,  who  vainly  lamented,  while  she  weakly 
indulged  his  extravagant  tastes  and  habits  of  good-for-noth- 
ingness.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Columbia  College :  and  be- 
ing, withal,  the  son  of  the  late  Captain  Seymour,  U.S.N., 
he  could  not  think  of  condescending  to  the  menial  drudgery 
of  an  ordinary  clerkship  in  mercantile  business,  though 
offers  of  this  nature  from  his  mother's  friends  were  abundant. 
A  learned  profession  alone  was  adapted  to  the  gentleness  of 
his  gentlemanhood.  His  name  was  duly  entered  in  a  law- 
yer's office,  and  he  was  supposed  to  be,  at  the  time  when 


TI7E     SAME     GENUS     HOMO.  Ill 

Nellie  first  saw  him,  perfecting-  himself  in  the  elementary 
branches  of  his  gentlemanly  profession.  This,  doubtless,  was 
an  easy  task  for  a  man  of  his  abilities ;  at  least,  however 
arduous  his  studies,  he  still  found  abundant  leisure  to  culti- 
vate the  polished  manners  and  habits  of  an  exquisite. 

Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  was  handsome  and  presentable ;  very 
serviceable,  therefore,  as  a  beau,  to  young  ladies  who  had  no 
fraternal  escort  to  rely  upon  ;  and,  as  such,  he  was  freely 
used  by  Charlotte  and  Emma  Lee.  Nellie  was  thus  brought 
in  contact  with  him,  up  stairs  in  her  father's  parlor,  and 
down  stairs,  in  Mrs.  Seymour's  room,  and  found  more  amuse- 
ment than  she  was  aware  of,  or  than  (if  she  had  known  it), 
was  exactly  amiable,  in  observing  his  foppish  ail's,  and  listen- 
ing to  his  languishing  sentiments. 

There  was  one  other  whose  presence  sometimes  graced 
Mrs.  Seymour's  parlor.  Miss  Van  Home,  Electa  Van  Home, 
was  stewardess,  butleress,  chief  cook,  and  housekeeper  in 
general,  of  Mrs.  Seymour's  establishment.  Her  grandfather 
and  grandmother  had  come  from  Holland  as  servants  in  the 
family  of  Mrs.  Seymour's  Huguenot  paternal  ancestors ;  her 
father  had  been  head  gardener  to  Mrs.  Seymour's  grand- 
father, at  New  Rochelle :  and  she,  the  youngest  of  fourteen 
children,  had  alone  remained  attached  to  the  family  which 
her  father  and  grandfather  had  faithfully  served.  She  could 
claim  near  relationship  as  aunt,  or  cousin,  to  dozens  of 
families  who  rejoiced  in  the  purity  of  their  Knickerbocker 
extraction  ;  but  she  suffered  them  to  remain  in  happy  ignor- 
ance of  the  sanguinary  purity  which  flowed  in  her  own  veins. 
Miss  Van  Home  was  thin,  tall  and  muscular,  with  a  yellow, 
leathern  skin,  betokening  her  of  that  peculiar  Dutch  stock 
that  imperceptibly  dries  up  with  years,  and  never  becomes 


112  VARIETIES     OF 

completely  and  uselessly  shriveled  till  the  drying  process 
has  extended  through  a  century  of  years.  What  her  age 
was,  no  one  could  tell.  Mrs.  Seymour  could  only  say  that 
for  forty  years  she  had  looked  as  if  she  might  be  fifty. 
Miss  Van  Home,  though  she  ridiculed  the  relations  who  had 
proceeded  from  the  same  servile  stock  with  herself,  was, 
nevertheless,  intensely  proud  of  her  Dutch  extraction.  She 
would  descant  for  hours  on  Dutch  customs,  and  old  Dutch 
families.  She  could  give  the  whole  history  of  Manhattan 
Island  from  its  earliest  settlement.  She  was  especially  elo- 
quent on  Dutch  ministers  and  churches.  Lamented  the  days 
of  the  Romaines  and  Schoonmachers :  and  often  avowed  her 
determination  never  to  regard  herself  as  duly  married,  unless 
the  whole  ceremony  as  approved  and  sanctioned  by  General 
Synod  was  read  and  performed.  To  her  taste  it  was  an  in- 
decency of  these  degenerate  days,  to  regard  one's  self  as 
married  by  a  form  that  at  its  greatest  extent  could  not  be 
stretched  beyond  ten  miuutes.  Miss  Van  Home's  failings, 
like  all  her  other  characteristics,  were  peculiarly  Dutch. 
They  were  two  in  number — penuriousness  and  work.  She 
never  spent  a  cent  of  her  own,  but  from  the  direst  necessity : 
and  she  never  rested  from  work  buWor  a  similar  cause  ;  that 
is,  when  there  was  no  work  to  be  done.  Her  virtues  wore, 
staunch  adherence  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Heidelberg  Cate- 
chism, invariable  regularity  in  her  attendance  on  church  and 
religious  ordinances,  and  an  unbounded  love  to  Mrs.  Seymour. 
That  lady  she  loved  as  if  she  were  her  mother,  sister,  and  all 
her  relations  combined  in  one.  She  loved  Mrs.  Seymour's 
children,  too — especially  Perry — but  she  loved  them  more  for 
Mrs.  Seymour's  sake,  then  their  own.  While  her  abilities  as 
a  housekeeper  might  command  high  wages  elsewhere,  she 


THE     SAME     GEN  US     HO  MO.  113 

preferred  to  share  Mrs.  Seymour's  fortunes,  with  no  wages  at 
all :  gratifying  her  Dutch  taste  for  accumulation  only  by 
hoarding  up  such  small  sums  as  occasionally  came  to  hand, 
or  were  saved  by  rigid  economy  from  the  allowance  which 
Mrs.  Seymour  forced  her  to  accept.  Miss  Van  Home,  we 
have  said,  had  two  failings :  perhaps  some  who  knew  her 
would  have  added  a  third.  She  seemed,  it  is  true,  to  have  a 
quick  and  pungent  temper.  But  this,  we  assert,  should  be 
included  in  one  of  the  above  mentioned  failings.  To  scold 
is  the  art  of  every  real  hard-worker.  It  should  be  regarded 
only  as  the  song  of  the  sailor,  "  Heave — heave — aho !"  that 
helps  the  work  along.  That  was  the  only  use  Miss  Van 
Home  made  of  it.  That  it  never  disturbed  the  equanimity 
of  her  inner  spirit,  is  apparent  from  the  self-evidencing  proof 
that  she  never  grew  old;  for  the  virago  wears  out;  ill-temper 
induces  disease.  But  Miss  Van  Home  merely  spoke  in  a 
loud,  sharp  voice  to  inspire  activity  in  others,  or  accelerate 
her  own  movements :  and  five  minutes  after  she  had  emitted 
the  sounds  which  seemed  like  scolding,  she  could  not  have 
told  what  they  were,  or  what  occasioned  them. 


XIII. 


Specimen  far  %  fj  mnsn 


"  I  see  bis  gray  eyes  twinkle  yet 

At  his  own  jest—  rgray  eyes  lit  up 
With  summer  lightnings  of  a  soul 

So  full  of  summer  warmth,  so  glad, 
So  healthy,  sound,  and  clear  and  whole, 
His  memory  scarce  can  make  me  sad." 

ALFRED  TBKNTSON. 

fTlHERE  was  another  who  had  the  right  of  entree  at  all 
-^-  times  into  Mrs.  Seymour's  sanctum  :  Mr.  Joshua  Sickles, 
the  very  opposite  in  all  respects  of  Albert  Seymour,  Esquire. 
The  first  time  Nellie  saw  him,  she  was  well-nigh  frightened 
out  of  her  senses. 

Sitting  in  the  little  room,  she  heard  a  heavy  tramp  com- 
ing along  the  hall,  tramp  —  tramp  —  tramp,  quick  and  loud, 
up  to  the  very  door,  then  an  impetuous  knock,  the  bursting 
open  of  the  door  before  Mrs."  Seymour  could  say  "  come  in," 
and  in  rushed  a  strange-looking  man,  with  great  green  gog- 
gles over  his  eyes.  He  was  of  middling  stature,  rather 
stout  ;  with  large  features  and  especially  large  mouth  ;  and 
a  remarkably  fresh,  clear,  well  colored  complexion.  His 
clothes  were  rather  coarse,  and  hung  about  him  as  if  they 
had  half  a  mind  to  fall  off  ;  and  his  boots  were  splashed 
with  mud. 

Nelh'e  shrunk  into  the  furthest  corner  of  the  sofa  ;  and 
when  the  man  with  the  big  goggles  came  directly  toward 


SPECIMEN    FOR   THE    HUMAN    HERBARIUM.       115 

her,  with  his  heavy  tramp,  and  seemed  about  actually  either 
to  walk  over  her,  sofa  and  all,  or  else  to  sit  down  upon  her, 
^he  could  not  help  giving  a  little  scream. 

"Bless  me  !"  exclaimed  the  man,  pulling  off  his  goggles, 
"  I  had  liked  to  have  killed  the  child." 

So  shaggy  were  the  eyebrows  that  overshadowed  the  eyes 
from  which  the  goggles  were  taken,  that  Nellie  did  not  no- 
tice then,  what  she  did  afterward  a  thousand  times,  how 
mild,  merry  and  handsome  those  large  gray  eyes  were. 

"  Mr.  Sickles,"  said  Mrs.  Seymour,  petulantly,  "  why  do 
you  persevere  in  wearing  those  glasses  ?  I  wonder  you  can 
see  any  thing !" 

"  My  dear  madam,"  rejoined  Mr.  Sickles,  "  I  wear  them 
for  a  variety  of  reasons.  First  of  all,  it  is  a  long  walk  from 
my  store  here,  and  the  dazzling  snow  would  put  my  eyes 
out—" 

"  Why  don't  you  ride  then  ?"  interposed  the  lady.  "  Om- 
nibuses are  plenty.  You  'd  be  sooner  home,  and  might  shut 
your  eyes  if  you  pleased." 

"  My  dear  madam,  sixpences  do  not  grow  on  trees.  You 
may  find  your  business  profitable  enough  to  throw  yours 
away  ;  but  I  do  not  mine." 

"  But,"  Mrs.  Seymour  persevered,  "  there  is  no  sun  to-day 
and  the  snow  would  hurt  no  one's  eyes.  And  you  know 
you  wear  those  goggles  when  there  is  no  snow  at  all." 

"  I  have  good  reasons,  madam.  They  shut  out  many  dis- 
agreeable and  inconvenient  sights,  and  save  me  a  deal  of 
money.  No  matter  what  display  in  the  shop  windows,  I 
am  not  tempted  to  buy  ;  no  matter  what  appeals  from  the 
sidewalk^  I  am  not  moved  to  pity,  for  I  can  not  see.  If  a 
lame  man  comes  bowing  up  to  me,  or  a  blind  woman  sits 


116  A     RARE     SPECIMEN 

• 

on  the  door-steps,  or  the  dirty  street-sweepers  put  out  their 
hands  for  a  penny,  f  stumble  over  them  all,  unconscious  of 
their  existence.  My  dear  madam,  you  know  my  weakness  — 
I  can  not  resist  —  I  should  give  every  thing  away  were  it  not 
for  my  goggles  —  " 

"  What  a  mean  man,"  thought  Nellie.  "  Too  mean  to  ride 
in  an  omnibus,  or  give  a  penny  to  the  poor  !" 

But  Mr.  Sickles  continued, 

"  My  dear  madam,  you  know  you  extorted  from  me  a 
promise  —  " 

"  I  did  no  such  thing,  Mr.  Sickles,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Sey- 
mour. 

"  Now  do  not  deny  it.  I  say  you  did,  Mrs.  Seymour.  You 
extorted  from  me  a  promise  to  give  something  to  that  worth- 
less —  as  I  believe  her  to  be  —  worthless  woman,  the  widow 
you  told  me  about  —  " 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  about  her,"  Mrs.  Seymour  interrupted 
again,  with  increasing  warmth.  "  You  yourself  told  me  of 
her." 

"That's  nothing  to  the  purpose.  It  was  you  who  went  to 
see  her,  and  told  me  all  about  her  :  a  most  piteous  story  you 
managed  to  make  of  it,  too.  And  here  is  what  you  made 
me  promise  to  give  her." 

He  handed  Mrs.  Seymour  a  bank-bill  ;  and  when  she  at- 
tempted to  speak,  probably  to  expostulate  with  his  state- 
ment of  facts,  he  prevented  her  by  saying, 

"  And  now,  Mrs.  Seymour,  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  that  I 
must  look  out  for  another  boarding-house.  Besides  that 
your  price  is  high,  enormously  high,  you  impose  upon  me  so 
often  with  these  expensive  cases  of  charity,  that  I  can  not 
stand  it,  ma'am,  I  can  not  afford  it,"  and  Mr.  Sickles  precipi- 


FOR     THE     HUMAN     HERBARIUM.  117 

• 

tated  himself  from  the  room  in  much  the  same  manner  in 
which  be  had  entered  it;  and  Nellie  heard  him  tramping  up, 
up,  and  up  the  long  flights  of  stairs. 

Nellk'  did  not  know  what  to  think  of  him.  He  appeared 
to  her  to  be  the  meanest  man  in  the  world,  and  so  queer  that 
he  was  frightful.  Mrs.  Seymour,  however,  did  not  seem  to 
agree  with  her,  for  she  was  smiling  to  herself,  and  looked  as 
if  she  liked  him  very  much.  But  Mrs.  Seymour  was  busy 
with  her  accounts  just  then,  and  Nellie  did  not  like  to  inter- 
rupt her  to  ask  who  the  queer  man  was. 

At  the  dinner-table  that  evening,  Nellie  looked  for  Mr. 
Sickles.  There  he  was,  at  the  very  furthest  end  from  where 
she  sat.  She  observed  that  he  was  an  object  of  polite  atten- 
tion to  all  around  him ;  and  that  he  was  the  first  one  to  rise 
and  leave  the  table. 

The  next  afternoon,  and  about  the  same  time  as  on  the 
day  before,  Nellie  heard  Mr.  Sickles'  unmistakable  tramp 
hurrying  through  the  long  hall.  She  would  have  liked  to 
escape,  but  the  pantry  door  was  closed,  and  before  she  could 
think  what  to  do,  the  loud  knock  came,  followed  by  the  in- 
stant irruption  of  Mr.  Sickles  into  the  little  room.  The  first 
thing  he  did  this  day  was  to  take  off  his  goggles.  Then  he 
looked  straight  into  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  where  he  had  well- 
nigh  crushed  Nellie  the  day  before.  But  there  was  no  one 
there ;  and  he  turned,  with  a  disappointed  sort  of  look,  to 
seat  himself  on  the  sofa,  when  he  discovered  Nellie,  nestling 
a*  close  as  she  could  to  Mrs.  Seymour. 

"  Biess  me !  You  are  there  are  you  ?"  Mr.  Sickles  ex- 
claimed. "  Afraid  of  me,  too !  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  I 
have  an  antipathy  to  children.  They  are  expensive.  What's 
your  name  ?" 


118  A     RARE    SPECIMEN 

"Nellie,  sir." 

"Well,  Nellie,  here  is  a  book  Mrs.  Seymour  insisted  upon 
my  buying  for  you,  because  I  frightened  you  so,  yesterday." 

"  I  insisted  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Seymour.  But  Mr.  Sickles 
paid  no  attention  to  her  protest. 

"Here,"  he  said,  addressing  Nellie;  "why  do  you  not 
come  and  take  it  ?" 

"  I  do  not  wish  it,  sir,"  said  Nellie,  putting  her  hands  be- 
hind her,  and  looking  very  much  offended. 

"  Do  not  wish  it  ?  But  you  have  not  seen  it."  Mr.  Sickles 
tore  off  the  wrapper,  and  displayed  the  very  beautiful  bind- 
ing. "  There,  now  won't  you  have  it  1" 

Nellie  retreated  further  from  him,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Not  handsome  enough  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Sickles,  talking 
to  himself.  "  Money  thrown  away  !  Must  buy  another,  I 
suppose,"  and  Mr.  Sickles  threw  the  book  down,  and  tramped 
out  of  the  room. 

"  Why  on  earth,  Nellie,  did  you  not  take  the  book  ?"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Seymour,  the  moment  the  door  was  shut. 
"  That  man  will  never  rest  till  he  has  bought  you  a  whole 
library!"  Mrs.  Seymour  forgot  that  Nellie  did  not  know 
" tkat  man"  as  well  as  she  did. 

"  Why  did  you,"  answered  Nellie,  with  tears  starting  in 
her  eyes,  "tell  him  to  buy  me  a  book?" 

"/  tell  him?  I  told  him  no  such  thing,"  and  Mrs.  Sey- 
mour laughed.  "  He  came  in  here  last  evening,  and  began 
at  once  asking  questions  about  you,  and  seemed  to  be  inter- 
ested in  what  I  told  him.  He  said  he  supposed  he  had 
frightened  you  to  death ;  that  you  would  never  forgive  him 
till  he  gave  you  something :  children  never  would.  That  he 
never  could  live  in  peace  in  the  same  house  with  you,  unless 


FOB    THE    HUMAN     HERBARIUM.  119 

he  did  buy  your  love ;  for  all  children  were  venial  and  spite- 
ful ;  and  he  knew  that  you  would  pull  his  hair,  or  pinch  him 
the  first  chance  you  got.  And  when  I  told  him  you  never 
could  be  guilty  of  such  conduct,  he  would  not  listen  to  me,  but 
kept  insisting  upon  my  telling  him  what  kind  of  a  present 
would  please  you  most.  And  so  I  said,  at  last,  that  you 
would  like  a  book,  I  guessed,  better  than  any  thing ;  and 
that's  all  that  I  had  to  do  with  it." 

"  Did  he  say  all  that  of  me  ?  What  an  impudent  man  he  is ! 
He  is  perfectly  hateful !"  cried  Nellie,  stamping  her  foot. 

Mrs.  Seymour  could  not  help  laughing.  Yet  she  looked 
perplexed  and  unhappy. 

"Oh,  Nellie,  Nellie,"  she  said,  "don't  say  so.  It's  only  his 
way.  He  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you,  and  this  is  his  way 
of  showing  it.  He  never  does  things  like  other  people. 
He  is  the  kindest-hearted  man  in  the  world,  and  he  will  feel 
hurt  if  you  do  not  take  his  book.  He  will  think,  or  pretend 
to,  that  it  is  because  the  book  is  not  expensive  enough.  He 
will  be  sure  to  buy  you  another,  and  he  '11  keep  on  buying 
them  till  you  agree  to  be  friends.  I  don't  know  what  he 
won't  do.  Perhaps  he  will  bring  you  a  Bible,  bound  in  vel- 
vet and  gold,  or  something  of  that  kind.  And  he  will  keep 
blaming  me  for  the  expense  all  the  time,  and  say  that  I 
brought  it  on  him.  Oh,  Nellie,  you  must  take  the  book. 
Please  take  it  for  my  sake,  if  not  for  his !" 

"  What  a  queer,  disagreeable  man  he  must  be,"  said  Nellie. 
"  I  am  sure  I  don't  wish  his  books.  And  you  tell  him  to- 
night, Mrs.  Seymour,  that  if  he  brings  a  cart-load  of  books, 
even  if  they  are  Bibles,  bound  in  velvet  and  gold,  I  will  not 
take  one  of  them.  So  he  may  as  well  give  it  up." 

Mrs.  Seymour  was  in  despair. 


120  A     RARE     SPECIMEN 

"  Give  what  up  ?"  asked  Perry  Seymour,  who  entered  just 
as  Nellie  pronounced  the  last  emphatical  words.  The  matter 
was  soon  explained  to  him.  He  laughed  till  he  cried.  The 
absurdity  of  Uncle  Joshua's  conduct,  as  he  called  him — the 
simplicity  of  his  mother  in  her  excited  anxiety  to  escape  Mr. 
Sickles'  accusations  against  herself,  should  Nellie  refuse  the 
book — and  Nellie's  angry  dignity  and  indignant  obstinacy, 
were  all  ludicrous  enough. 

After  much  talking,  insisting  on  Mrs.  Seymour's  part,  and 
refusing  on  Nellie's,  both  agreed  to  leave  the  matter  to  Per- 
ry's decision.  Perry  at  once  assumed  a  grave  and  judge-like 
air;  and  proceeded  to  give  an  opinion — like  many  others  pro- 
nounced from  the  ermine — neither  one  way  or  the  other, 
He  proposed  in  fact  a  compromise.  He  said  the  shortest 
way  to  settle  the  matter  would  be  for  Nellie  to  accept  the 
book.  But  since  she  would  not  do  thnt,  he  thought  the  best 
plan  was  for  Nellie  to  go  with  him  to  Mr.  Sickles'  room,  and 
thank  him  for  his  kind  intentions,  but  tell  him  that  she  could 
not  think  of  accepting  so  handsome  a  present  from  a 
stranger. 

To  this  Nellie  demurred.  She  wished  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with  the  man  ;  and  it  was  nothing  to  her  she  said,  if  he 
was  offended.  But  Perry  told  her  so  many  things  about  Mr. 
Sickles  that  showed  the  kindness  of  his  heart,  and  was  so 
urgent  in  his  entreaties,  that  at  last  she  consented. 

Book  in  hand,  they  started  for  Mr.  Sickles'  room.  It  was 
a  longer  journey  than  Nellie  had  anticipated.  They  went  up 
one  pair  of  stairs,  and  then  another,  and  another  still. 

"  Why,  Perry,  you  are  not  going  any  further  up  T  Nellie 
asked. 

"  Yes,  I  am.     Mr.  Sickles' rooms   are   in    the  a! tic.     Oh, 


JOB    THE    HUMAN    HERBARIUM.  121 

Nellie,  lie  is  such  a  funny  man.  He  insists  upoii  it  that  he 
can  not  afford  to  hire  any  of  the  rooms  in  the  lower  stories, 
and  yet,  mother  says,  he  manages  in  one  way  and  another  to 
pay  as  much  for  these  rooms,  as  if  he  had  the  best  in  the 
house.  She  hardly  dares  do  any  thing  for  his  comfort,  for  he 
is  sure  to  remember  it,  and  pay  for  it,  when  he  comes  to 
settle  his  bill,  and  all  the  time  he  accuses  mother  of  doing  it 
on  purpose  to  extort  money  from  him.  He  hardly  ever  pays 
a  bill  without  giving  warning  of  his  intention  to  find  another 
boar  J  ing-house.  Oli,  Nellie.  I  have  to  laugh  so.  Mother 
never  underpin  Is  him.  Sue  is  so  s'raight-forward  and 

honest :  she  never  gets  used  to  him  :  I  u4  alwavs  thinks  he  is 

'  ° 

in  earnes4.  Sli3  sometimes  l:ui.;-!.s  at  herself  for  her  own 
simplicity.  If  he  were  to  go  down  stairs  now,  and  say  that 
she  made  him  buy  that  book,  she  would  ba  just  as  anxious 
to  deny  and  disprove  it,  as  if  she  had  never  known  him. 
But  here  we  a:-e." 

Such  a  ple:'t«M4  voice  answered  4i  Come  in,"  when  Perry 
kno-kel,  tlr.l  NeKi;-  was  just  going  to  tell  Perry  that 
he  had  made  a  mV.-ike,  for  that  \vj;s  not  Mr.  Sickles' 
voice;  but  P-:ry  lirew  open  the  door  before  she  could 
speak,  and  the  ~e  \v;:>  Mr.  Sickles  himself,  seated  in  a  com- 
fortable a:  m-eh::i  •,  :•.':  t'-.e  side  of  a  bright  Liverpool  coal 
lire.  Mr.  Sickles  wa-  a  very  different  man  in  his  own 
a-mr.inents  from  what  lie  was  cut  of  them:  and  it  was  with 
an  air  of  so  much  politeness  tha4  lie  placed  chairs  for  his 
v;  ir^-s.  and  bi  1  th"in  welcome,  that  Nellie  almost 
tlier<«  were-  two  Mi'.  Sickle.-. 

lie  must  have  .-<•  n  t!..-  book,  but  li-  male  no  allusion  to 
it.  He  Ix.'u'.'iii  in  an  oii'-lia::d  wnv'o  talk  and  joke  with  Perry 
about  his  school  and  play-mates,  .".id  \>'i'<  Nellie  undisturbed 

6 


122  A    RARE     SPECIMEN 

to  make  her  observations  and  criticisms  on  him  and  his  sur- 
roundings. 

The  room,  notwithstanding  the  low  ceiling  and  dwarfish 
windows,  was  large  in  size  and  cheerful  in  appearance. 
Through  an  open  door,  Nellie  saw  that  the  bedroom  adjoin- 
ing was  of  the  same  size,  and  in  that,  too,  a  Liverpod  coal 
fire  was  burning  in  the  grate.  Both  rooms  were  furnished, 
not  only  neatly  and  comfortably,  but  tastefully  and  hand- 
somely. Close  by  the  rose-wood  book-case,  stood  what 
looked  like  a  guitar-case  :  Nellie  was  sure  it  was  one,  for  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  room  there  was  a  music  rack,  full  of 
music,  tesides  a  pile  of  music  hooks  on  the  floor  beside  it 
But  the  most  astonishing  discovery  was — "  clear  up  there  iu 
the  attic" — a  conservatory.  Mrs.  Seymour's  house  stood  on 
the  comer  of  two  streets,  and  Mr.  Sickles'  room  was  a  corner 
room,  and  the  front  of  the  room  faced  the  south :  the  third 
story  of  the  house  projected  beyond  the  fourth,  a  space  of 
some  three  feet,  or,  measuring  to  the  furthest  extent  of  the 
heavy  stone  cornice,  almost  five  feet :  and  on  this  projection 
Mr.  Sickles  had  built  his  aerial  green-house,  diminutive,  to 
be  sure,  when  compared  with  less  aspiring  conservatories,  but 
displaying  a  more  exquisite  collection  of  flowers  than  they 
can  always  boast :  flowers,  Nellie  was  surprised  to  observe,  of 
the  most  delicate  and  fragile  species.  Roses  that  a  breath 
might  blow  away,  or  a  dew-drop  stain ;  lilies  "  white  as 
dreams  in  Eden ;"  passion-flowers  trembling  from  their 
shadowy  vines ;  one  feathery  acacia,  waving  its  i'airest  yellow 
bloom  over  an  orange-tree,  the  delicate  tracery  of  its  pale 
green  leaves  falling  upon  the  glossy  verdure  and  golden  fruit 
of  the  orange  like  a  fairy  net-work ;  and  a  maurandia  vine 
trailed  over  both  so  lightly,  that  not  a  leaf  seemed  depressed 


£ 


* 

FOR    THE     HUMAN     HERBARIUM.  123 

by  its  weight,  and  mingled  its  purple  bells  in  pretty  contrast 
with  their  white  and  yellow  blossoms.  Two  canaries,  one  on 
either  side  of  the  door,  were  the  sweetest  singers,  Nellie 
thought,  she  had  ever  heard.  They  did  not  vie  with  each 
other  in  making  the  greatest  possible  noise,  nor  did  their 
music  ring  till  every  nerve  of  hearing  seemed  to  vibrate,  and 
the  listener  could  not  hear  himself  either  talk  or  think — but 
they  warbled  out  the  gentlest  and  softest  music  possible. 

"  You  like  flowers  ?"  said  Mr.  Sickles  to  her,  abruptly. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  answered,  with  a  startled  voice,  for  just  when 
he  spoke,  she  was  stretching  her  neck  to  see  a  flower  that 
peeped  round  the  corner,  ^id  she  felt  that  she  might  have 
been  too  curiously  inspecting  what  did  not  belong  to  her. 

"  Come  and  look  at  mine,"  said  Mr.  Sickles. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  is — and  this — and  this  ?"  he 
asked,  in  rapid  succession,  pointing  to  one  after  another. 
She  knew  the  names  of  all,  though  there  were  two  or  three 
varieties  she  had  never  seen  before. 

"  Do  you  like  flowers,  Mr.  Sickles  ?"  asked  Nellie,  express- 
ing by  the  emphasis  of  the  pronoun,  more  astonishment  at 
the  possibility  of  his  liking  them,  than  she  was  aware  of. 

"Yes,  I  like  them,"  he  answere  1.  "  Only,  they  are  so  ex- 
pensive :  just  like  little  girls — always  costing  money." 

Nellie  began  to  think  there  were  not  two  Mr.  Sickles 
after  all.  But  when  he  picked  her  an  exquisite  bouquet, 
and  handed  it  to  her  with  a  gentle  grace  as  rare  as  the 
flowers,  the  old  opinion  came  back  that  there  were  two  Mr. 
Sickles.  Flowers !  how  she  loved  them !  how  delightful 
once  more  to. -breathe  their  fragrant  beauty!  She  did  not 
now  how  much  she  had  missed  the  Truro  green-house;  and 
lie  lhanked  Mr.  Sickles  in  a  glow  of  excitement,  and  waa 


124  A    RARE     SPECIMEN. 

bounding  out  of  the  room,  when  Perry  whispered  to  her  that 
she  had  forgotten  the  book. 

Nellie  paused,  irresolute.  The  book  lay  upon  the  chair 
where  she  had  left  it.  Mr.  Sickles  stood  close  by  her,  look- 
ing so  pleased  and  happy.  She  hesitated  but  a  moment ;  she 
ran  back  for  the  book,  came  up  to  Mr.  Sickles  again,  and 
told  him  that  she  was  very  much  obliged  to  him  for  the 
book,  and  hoped  he  would  pardon  her  for  refusing  it  at  first, 
for  she  did  not  know  him  then  as  she  did  now,  and  she  did 
not  care  for  presents  unless  she  liked  the  giver. 

Perry  listened  in  astonishment.  Mr.  Sickles  was  evidently 
pleased,  for  the  twinkle  in  his  eye  said  so :  yet  he  began 
fumbling  with  his  hands  in  the  rarge  square  pockets  of  his 
big  coat,  very  much  as  if  he  suspected  somebody  of  an  inten- 
tion to  pick  those  capacious  receptacles.  But  Nellie  ran 
away  before  he  spoke  :  and  from  that  day,  Mr.  Joshua  Sickles 
and  Nellie  Lee  were  fast  friends. 


~ 


XIV. 

$  Sprig  jof  ientilitn  more  Sfeotog  to  Utortfe. 

"The  present  method  of  servile  imitation  throws  the  individual  into  the  crowd 
if  a  numerous  class — an  undistinguished  particle  in  the  heap;  as  you  have  often 
seen  a  company  of  brother-oyster  shells  1 ,  ing  in  the  streets,  but,  I  dare  say,  never 
thought  of  remarking  the  importan^jirterenees  among  them.  .  .  They  are  like 
the  golden  ornameats  of  iho  Israelites,  which  passed  by  a  melting  process  from  a 
multitude  of  diminutives  into  one  illustrious  calf." — JOHN  FOSTER. 

A  LBERT  Seymour,  Esq.,  was  an  object  of  unqualified 
-*••*-  aversion  to  Mr.  Joshua  Sickles.  Not  seldom  was  this  a 
cause  of  lamentation  with  Mrs.  Seymour.  "  She  did  wish 
Mr.  Sickles  understood  poor  Albert.  He  was  so  hard  upon 
him.  He  gave  him  no  credit  for  the  good  qualities  he  pos- 
sessed, whatever  his  faults  might  be." 

"  Mother,"  said  Mister  Albert,  one  day,  "  I  shall  have  to 
trouble  you  for  five  dollars,  to  purchase  a  concert  ticket  to- 
night. 

A  famous  singer  was  to  appear.  The  concert  was  for  a 
charitable  object :  and  every  body  was  to  be  there. 

"  Albert,"  his  mother  replied,  "  I  wish  you  would  take  a 
less  expensive  seat.  I  have  promised  Perry  that  he  shall 
hear  this  *inj£tr^ind  to-night  will  be  the  last  opportunity. 
But  I  can  not  afford  two  five  dollar  tickets;  neither  can  I 
let  him  go  alone.  Tf  you  would  buy  two  promenade  tickets 
for  a  dollar  each,  you  would  share  the  pleasure  with  your 

• 


120  ASPRIQ     OF    GENTILITY 

brother  and  save  money  at  that — which  I  can  very  ilJ 
spare." 

"  What  would  the  world  say  to  see  me,  Albert  Seymour, 
stalking  about  among  the  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harries  ?  Dear 
mother,  it  is  impossible.  Besides,  I  have  made  a  positive 
engagement  and  can  not  help  it  now." 

"  Poor  Perry,  he  will  be  greatly  disappointed,"  his  mother 
said,  sadly. 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  He  can  go  another  time,"  Mr.  Albert  re- 
sponded. "  Perhaps  I'll  take  him  to  hear  the  Ethiopian 
minstrels." 

"  No,  you  will  not,"  Mrs.  Seymour  said,  decidedly.  "  If 
your  elegance  can  not  condescend  to  mingle  with  gentle- 
men, because  they  are  not  in  the  most  fashionable  circles, 
you  shall  not  expose  Perry  to  the  contamination  and  vul- 
garity of  an  Ethiopian  concert." 

This  was  a  very  severe  speech  for  mild  Mrs.  Seymour. 
Albert  was  quite  overcome  by  it  and  sank  down  upon  the 
sofa  with  a  graceful  air  of  martyr-like  resignation. 

"  Dear  mother,"  he  said,  apologetically,  "  I  mentioned  the 
Ethiopians  because  I  thought  they  would  interest  Perry ; 
and  one  is  in  no  danger  of  being  snobbed  as  a  plebeian  at 
such  a  place.  He  is  only  thought  a  fast  young  man,  who 
likes  to  see  and  know  a  little  of  all  that  is  going  on.  But 
on  such  a  night  as  ^his,  at  a  full  dress  concert,  to  take  any 
other  than^a  five  dollar  seat  would  be  decidedly  outree. 
Indeed  I  "could  not  think  of  it.  It  might  cause  my  expul- 
sion from  the  pale  of  society.  Mrs.  Ephrain^Jones  and  all 
her  set  would  positively  cut  me,  if  they  tiro  not  4b  me,  at 
least  once  in  the  evening,  sitting  near  or  conver|ing  with  the 
Jays,  or  Lees,  or  Murrays.  And  then  the  Lalors  !  horrors  ! 


M  O  R  L     !i  U  U  W  V     THAN     WORTHY.  127 

Wiiat  if  they  should  give  me  the  cold  shoulder  and  crush 
the  hopes  of  winning  a  fortune  as  well  as  a  heart,  dear 
mother." 

"  Albert,"  answered  his  mother,  with  alann,  "  you  surely 
could  not  love  either  of  those  trifling  girls  ;  :<.nd  you  would 
not,  I  hope,  marry  merely  for  the  sake  of  fortune." 

"  I  don't  knov,-,  mother  dear,"  he  answered,  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders.  "  I  think  I  could  love  enough  where  there 
was  money  enough.  And  then  you  should  give  up  this 
detestable  boarding-house.  Bah !  it  is  shocking  to  think 
that  you  should  ever  have  been  reduced  to  so  low  an  em- 
ployment" 

To  this  effusion  his  mother  made  no  reply.  She  only 
looked  grave  and  sad.  Fearing  that  she  might  grow  obliv- 
ious to  the  subject  of  his  present  wants,  Master  Albert  ven- 
tured after  awhile  to  renew  his  application. 

"  Mother  dear,  I  am  very  sorry  I  can  not  take  Perry  to- 
night. But  that  is  out  of  the  question.  And  I  must  have 
five  dollars  for  my  own  ticket ;  for,  I  think  I  told  you,  I  am 
under  an  engagement  to  attend  this  concert,  which  I  could 
not  honorably  break." 

Mrs.  Seymour  searched  her  purse  and  portemonuaie,  and 
replaced  both  in  her  pocket,  remarking  that  she  had 
nothing  less  than  a  twenty  dollar  bill ;  perhaps  Mr.  Sickles 
could  change  it  for  her,  when  he  came  in. 

"  Mr.  Sickles  ?  mother ;  won't  you  ask  some  one  else  to 
change  it  for  you,"  Albert  urged.  Mrs.  Seymour  pre- 
sumed he  feared  some  scathing  remark  from  Mr.  Sickles, 
and  feeling  less  tender-hearted  than  usual,  answered  him 
coldly,  that  "there  was  no  one  else  she  cared  to  trouble 
about  it" 


J28  •  it  i  o    o  i-'    c  K  \  T  i  j.  i  r  Y 

"Pierce  (]•>  V:"'  (•  H  lr:.!  what  vou  want  it  for,  mother," 
Albert  said. 

"  X-t,  rnv  ro:i,v  r.he  answered,  "  I  should  bo  ashamed  to 
ieli  one  so  generous,  what  a  selfish  son  I  have." 

"Oh,  mo.hor,"  he  answered,  deprecatingly,  "  you  do  not 
understand  wditit  the  customs  of  society  demand.  I  would 
d.>  anv  thing  for  Perry's  gratification.  But  then,  the  world 
is  inexorable.  Oh,  dear  I1'  and  reclining  at  full  length  on 
the  sofa  ho  covered  his  face  with  his  worked  and  scented 
han:;T  rchief,  to  lade  the  tender  emotions  which  were 
agitating  his  hea.it,  or,  the  want  of  them. 

Soon  P<-rry  came  in,  and  going  directly  to  his  mother, 
asked,  in  a  whisper,  if  she  had  spoken  to  Albert  about  the 
concert. 

"  He  says  he  can  not  possibly  take  you,"  was  the  only  and 
audible  reply. 

The  white  cambric  handkerchief  did  not  move  in  its  finest 
fold,  and  as  it  was  of  the  most  gossamer  material,  the  infer- 
tence  was  that  Albert  Seymour  was  so  sound  asleep  that  he 
had  ceased  to  breathe.  As  for  Perry,  he  walked  directly 
•tfo  the  window  and  stood  there  for  a  long  time  without  turn- 
ing round  once.  He  could  not  have  been  enamored  of  the 
prospect,  for  the  window  looked  down  upon  a  very  small 
and  bare  brick-paved  court. 

Perry  did  not  move  till  Mr.  Sickles'  tramp  was  heard  in 
the  hall.  The  cambiic  handkerchief  moved  too,  now  ;  one 
little  startled,  fluttering  motion,  and  then  it  lay  <|uiot  again. 
One  tiny  foot,  encased  in  French-calf,  of  most  feminine 
make,  moved  too,  fron,  the  sofa  to  the-  floor,  but  there  it 
staid ;  either  the  luxurious  repose  was  too  attractive,  or 
escape  was  judged  impossible.  Mr.  Sickles  entered  the 


.       MOKE     SHOWY    THAN     WORTHY.  129 

room  with  his  green  goggles  on.  The  little  French-booted 
foot,  lay  just  in  his  path,  and  Mr.  Sickles'  heavy,  country- 
made  boot,  came  down  upon  it  with  such  precision  as  to 
start  the  doubt  whether  it  were  purely  accidental. 

"  Bless  me  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Sickles,  pulling  off  his  goggles, 
"  did  I  step  on  any  thing  ?" 

The  start  and  the  exclamation  were  so  ludicrous  that 
Perry,  who  had'  seen  the  whole  proceeding  and  who  had  a 
little  spite  perhaps  to  gratify,  burst  into  an  uproarious  fit  of 
laughter,  such  as  only  a  boy  can  raise.  This  was  too  much 
for  Albert,  who  was  smarting  with  the  pain  and  the  sus- 
picion of  intentional  insult,  and  shaking  a  hand — so  little 
that  it  might  provoke  the  same  question  as  the  foot,  whether 
"  it  was  any  thing  ?" — at  Perry,  he  limped  out  of  the  room. 

"  O,  ho  !  Perry,"  cried  Mr.  Sickles,  "  you  are  very  happy 
to-night.  That  concert  has  put  you  in  fine  spirits." 

Perry  was  grave  in  a  minute ;  and  the  sudden  change 
from  merriment  to  sobriety  could  not  pass  unremarked. 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  what's  the  matter  now  ?"  Mr. 
Sickles  exclaimed,  plunging  his  hands  into  his  large  pockets, 
which  he  habitually  associated  with  every  cause  for  sorrow, 
"  dear,  dear,  I  suppose  it 's  because  that  little  Nellie,  your  in- 
separable friend,  is  not  going!  Well,  it's  very  expensive, 
but  she  must  go  too,  I  suppose,"  and  Mr.  Sickles  produced 
his  pocket-book. 

Perry  laughed  again  now,  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Sickles,"  he  said, 
"  I  should  like  to  have  Nellie  go  with  me,  if  I  were  going ; 
but  I  am  not  going  myself.  Albert  says  he  won't  take 
me." 

"  He  must  have  changed  his  mind  soon,"  said  Mr.  Sickles ; 
"  it  was  not  two  hours  ago,  that  he  borrowed  ten  dollars  of 


130  A    SPHIG     OF     GENTILITY 

me,  to  buy  tickets,  as  I  understood  him,  for  his  mother, 
Perry,  and  himself." 

''  Are  you  sure  he  said  so  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Seymour, 
who  was  listening  with  painful  interest. 

"  Well,  no,"  was  the  answer,  "  now  that  I  think  of  it 
again,  I  am  sure  that  he  did  not  say  so.  He  said  he  wished 
while  down  town  to  buy  tickets  for  the  concert  and  had 
neglected  to  bring  money  sufficient.  And  I  myself,  said, 
'  Tickets  for  your  mother,  Perry,  and  yourself,  I  suppose ;' 
and  as  he  did  not  say  '  No,'  I  supposed  that  he  meant  '  Yes.' 
So  you  see,  madam,  it  was  all  my  stupid  inference.  I  was 
misled  by  my  knowledge  of  his  habitual  consideration  for 
the  happiness  of  others." 

Mrs.  Seymour  bit  her  lip.  "  Can  you  give  me  two  five 
dollar  bills  for  this,  Mr.  Sickles,"  she  asked,  holding  out  a 
bill  to  him. 

Mr.  Sickles  gave  her  the  bills  and  examined  the  one  she 
handed  him. 

"  Stop,  how  is  this  ?"  he  asked ;  "  you  have  given  me  a 
twenty." 

"Ten  dollars  I  owe  you,  or  Albert  does,  which  is  the 
same  thing,"  she  answered,  replacing  her  pocket-book. 

"  The  same  thing  ?  Madam,  I  tell  you  it  is  a  very  differ- 
ent thing.  I  will  thank  you  to  give  me  back  my  bills,  or 
take  this  too,"  extending  a  ten  toward  her. 

"  I  must  insist,  Mr.  Sickles  on  your  keeping  it;"  and  Mrs. 
Seymour  spoke  so  resolutely,  that  Mr.  Sickles  had  to  yield. 

If  Mr.  Sickles  ordinarily  rushed  out  of  the  room,  now  he 
flew  out,  like — except  for  the  noise — a  dart,  down  the  hall 
and  out  of  the  front  door,  making  the  whole  house  shake  as 
he  slammed  after  him  the  massive  portal. 


MORE     SHOWY     THAN     "WORTHY.  131 


Soon  after  Albert  sauntered  again  into  the  room.     It 
growing  dark  and  he  did  not  observe  that  tears  had  been 
coursing  down  his  mother's  cheeks. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  with  a  languid  effort  at  a  joke,  "  did 
you  get  that  little  V  for  me  ?" 

"Where,  sir,"  she  asked,  "are  the  ten  dollars  you  bor- 
rowed of  Mr.  Sickles  to  purchase  tickets"  —  there  was  irony 
in  her  voice  —  "for  your  mother,  your  brother,  and  yourself?" 

Albert  threw  himself  on  the  sofa  with  an  air  of  exhaust- 
ion. "  Now,  my  dear  mother,  it  is  too  bad  that  you  should 
have  discovered  that  little  incident.  It  is  my  confounded 
luck.  The  fact  is  just  this,  dear  mother,  I  made  a  bet 
of  two  concert  tickets  with  the  pretty  Lalor  girls  (Blanche 
you  know  is  quite  fond  of  me),  and  I  lost  them,  mother 
dear  ;  and  not  having  the  money  to  pay  for  them,  and  not 
liking  to  ask  you  for  it  all,  I  did  the  best  I  could  —  borrowed 
ten  of  Mr,  Sickles  and  expect  you,  dear  mother,  to  give  me 
the  other  five.  And  now  you  see  what  a  fix  I  am  in  ;  for 
their  tickets  are  bought  and  sent  to  them,  and  of  course 
they  expect  my  escort.  Now,  mother,  please  give  me 
that  V.  We  've  talked  about  it  more  than  it  is  worth,"  and 
Albert  concluded  with  a  yawn,  as  if  it  were  an  intolerably 
prosy  and  trifling  matter. 

"  I  will  give  it,  Albert,"  his  mother  said,  il  on  one  single 
condition,  and  that  is,  that  you  never  again,  so  long  as  you 
and  I  bo^i  live,  ask  Mr.  Sickles  to  lend  you  money." 

The  promise  was  as  lightly  given  as  it  was  lightly  kept, 
and  the  exquisite  young  man  lounged  out  of  the  room,  with 
the  thankless  air  of  one  who  considered  a  matter  of  fifteen 
or  twenty  dollars  mere  moonshine.  The  stonn  indeed  had 
blown  over  more  speedily  than  he  expected.  His  mother 


132  A    3  P  R  I  G     OF     U  K  N  T  I  L  I  T  V 

too  felt  relieved ;  for  the  affair  as  now  explained,  seemed  to 
her  less  serious,  because  less  mysterious. 

Nellie,  Mrs.  Seymour  and  Perry  were  all  in  the  little  room 
waiting  for  the  summons  to  dinner,  when  Mr.  Sickles  once 
more  invaded  that  apartment. 

"  There  seems  to  be  no  end  to  the  way  in  which  money  is 
wasted,"  he  began,  in  his  abrupt  fashion.  "  Here,  unfortu- 
nately, I  put  the  idea  of  going  to  the  concert  in  Perry's  head, 
and  of  having  Nellie  with  him ;  and  now  neither  of  them 
would  ever  forgive  me,  if  they  did  not  go.  Of  all  dreadful 
things,  the  spite  of  children  is  most  venomous.  I'd  rather 
live  with  wild  Indians,  than  in  the  same  house  with  two 
children,  whose  love  you  can  not  or  do  not  buy.  So  I  have 
had  to  get  tickets  for  them  ;  and,  as  I  suppose,  Mrs.  Seymour, 
you  would  not  trust  them  alone  with  me,  for  I  might  take 
summaiy  vengeance  by  losing  them  altogether,  and  as  I  do 
not  wish  to  be  pestered  with  the  entire  care  of  them,  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  you,  madam,  if  you,  as  a  mere  act  of  charity  to 
them  and  me,  will  accompany  us." 

Going  t£.  the  concert !  Oh  what  joy  to  Nellie !  Her 
father,  mother,  and  sisters  were  going,  and  brother  Robert 
and  sister  Theresa ;  but  none  of  them  had  so  much  as 
thought  of  taking  her.  But  she  was  to  go,  with  Mrs.  Sey- 
mour and  Perry,  and  funny  Mr.  Sickles:  what  could  be 
pleasanter? 

Nor  was  this  the  last  concert  that  Nellie  attended  with  Perry 
and  Mr.  Sickles  that  winter.  And  though  Mr.  Sickles  always 
had  some  droll  excuse  for  taking  them  and  pretended  to  be 
forced  into  it  and  greatly  bored  by  it,  yet  Nellie  observed  that 
his  interest  in  their  pleasure  was  only  less  than  his  keer  en  • 
joymen  t,  of  the  music  when  good,  or  annoyance  when  not  good- 


XV. 

nmmer-time,  an&  a  C(jristmas  f  al*. 


"  Nor  stranger  seemed  that  hearts 
So  gentle,  so  employed,  should  close  in  love, 
Than  when  two  dew-drops  on  the  petal  shake 
To  the  same  sweet  air  and  tremble  deeper  down, 
And  slip  at  once  all  fragrant  into  one." 

ALFRED  TENNYSON. 


rFHE  winter  wore  away.  Late  in  the  spring,  Nellie  came 
-*-  back  to  Truro,  happy  and  bright  as  the  birds  that  had 
migrated  earlier  from  the  sunny  south.  The  meeting  be- 
tween her  and  Mrs.  Hughes  was  joyous ;  and  if  the  flowers, 
trees,  birds,  and  very  breezes  were  not  glad  to  see  her  again, 
Nellie  thought  they  were,  for  they  fairly  danced  in  the 
happy  light  that  shone  out  her  welcome  to  them. 

Nellie  did  not  leave  all  troubles  behind  her ;  for  the  new 
governess  came  with  her.  Miss  Brown  was  a  governess ;  a 
thoroughly  educated,  practical,  stereotyped  English  one — one 
that  extended  her  surveillance  over  the  whole  conduct  of  her 
pupil,  and  never  permitted  her  to  do  any  thing  her  own  way, 
unless  that  was  the  right  and  most  right  way.  But  Nellie 
had  Mrs.  Hughes  now  to  advise  with,  and  in  spite  of  Miss 
Brown  and  her  fixy  notions,  was  happier  than  she  had 
been  in  the  city.  It  was  well  for  her  that  Mrs.  Hughes  was 
an  English  woman.  When  Miss  Brown  first  heard  of  Nellie's 
intimacy  with  the  tanner's  wife,  Miss  Brown's  face  assumed 


134  BRIGHT     SUMMER-TIME, 

a  very  shocked,  decided,  and  threatening  aspect.  But  ona 
visit  to  the  tannery  and  its  flower  garden,  and  one  talk  of 
old  England,  and  its  ivy,  pinks  and  daisies,  and  its  church, 
with  pretty,  cheerful,  clever  Mrs.  Hughes,  dissipated,  or  cap- 
tivated Miss  Brown's  prejudices,  and  Nellie  was  continued  in 
the  unforbidden,  unrestrained  freedom  of  visiting  the  Sunday- 
school  teacher. 

On  Nellie's  account,  Mrs.  Hughes  cultivated  and  propiti- 
ated Miss  Brown's  good  opinion,  found  in  her  an  intelligent, 
agreeable,  and  pious  friend,  and  if  Miss  Brown  never  wholly 
laid  aside  a  patronizing  air  toward  the  tanner's  wife,  the  lat- 
ter did  not  seem  aware  of  it.  She  studied  Miss  Brown's 
good  qualities,  and  while  she  smiled  at  the  infirmities  and 
professional  peculiarities  of  the  governess,  she  admired  the 
sterling  sense,  high  cultivation,  and  conscientious  fidelity  of 
the  Christian  woman  ;  and  taught  Nellie  to  appreciate  these 
and  bear  with  those. 

The  pleasantest  time  in  all  the  summer  was  August  and 
part  of  September.  Then  Miss  Brown  went  away  to  visit 
her  friends,  and  Henry  caine  home,  and  Perry  Seymour 
came  with  him,  to  spenl  his  vacation  at  Truro.  Although 
Perry  came  to  see  Henry,  he  never  forgot  Nellie.  He  insist- 
ed upon  her  being  a  party  in  all  their  pleasures,  and  as  Miss 
Brown  was  not  there  to  forbid,  and  no  one  assumed  Miss 
Brown's  authority,  Nellie  accompanied  the  boys  in  their 
furthest  and  wildest  excursions,  over  hills,  up  rocks,  through 
woods  and  marshes,  gunning,  fishing,  and  nut-hunting,  invig- 
orating, by  this  means,  her  own  health,  both  of  body  and 
mind,  and  strengthening  the  ties  which  bound  her  already  to 
at  least  one  of  the  parties.  As  for  Harry,  the  brother 
whom  she  1  jved  so  dearly,  boarding-school  had  spoiled  him. 


AND     A     CHRISTMAS    TALE.  135 

He  seemed  to  think  it  unboyish — we  ask  his  pardon,  "  un- 
manly," he  would  have  called  it — to  be  forever  tied  to  a 
girl.  He  barely  tolerated  Nellie's  company,  and  regarded 
Perry  as  but  a  girlish  city-boy  for  wanting  her. 

But  Miss  Brown  came  back,  and  Harry  and  Perry  re- 
turned to  their  schools,  and  before  the  luscious  month  of  Oc- 
tober was  well  passed  its  ripeness,  the  whole  family  migrated 
once  more  from  Truro  to  New  York. 

That  winter,  Charlotte  and  Emma,  fully  emancipated 
from  the  school-room,  entered  upon  the  career  of  young 
ladyship.  Nellie  was  more  than  ever  out  of  the  thoughts  of 
the  family.  The  father  and  the  mother  were  devoted  to  the 
two  elder  daughters,  and  the  daughters  were  devoted  to  the 
gayeties  of  a  city  life.  But  she  was  kept  hard  at  work  by  in- 
defatigable Miss  Brown,  and  enjoyed  with  the  more  zest,  be- 
cause with  less  frequency,  her  visits  to  Mrs.  Seymour's  parlor 
and  Mr.  Sickles  attic  retirement — Attic  it  was,  in  the  classical 
as  well  as  the  edifical  sense. 

Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  was  still  unfettered  with  the  bonds 
of  matrimony.  Miss  Blanche  Lalor  had  deceived  his  hopes. 
When  he  had  persuaded  himself  to  make  her  the  decisive 
offer,  he  found,  to  his  chagrin,  that  he  could  not  persuade 
her  to  accept  of  it.  His  melancholy  was  profound  ;  he  even 
entertained  the  suicidal  purpose  of  burying  his  personal 
charms  in  the  assiduities  of  the  legal  profession.  For  a  whole 
week  he  kept  office  hours,  and  smoked  his  cigar  over  Black- 
stone  instead  of  the  last  novel.  He  grew  pale  and  thin 
(owing  possibly  to  the  stint  of  claret  during  this  period  01 
exile  from  the  scenes  of  fashionable  gluttony),  and  his  fond 
mother  really  believed  that  he  was  pining  away  of  a  broken 
heart,  and  needed  the  trip  to  Saratoga,  which,  he  intimated 


136  BRIGHT     SUMMER-TIME, 

might  have  a  salutary  effect.  To  Saratoga  he  went ;  at  a 
time,  too,  when  the  Lees  happened  to  be  there  ;  and,  dazzled 
by  Charlotte  Lee's  beauty,  or  fortune,  or  his  own  intense 
vanity  or  venality,  like  a  moth  that  can  not  be  cured  of  flut- 
tering around  the  fatal  lamp,  he  yielded  himself  once  more 
to  the  fascinating  dream  of  a  splendid  alliance. 

The  fashionable  exquisite,  if  rich,  stirs  our  satire,  but  if 
poor,  moves  also  our  pity.  Dependent  for  position  on  the 
favor  or  caprice  of  the  fair  sex,  or,  at  least,  on  the  value  of 
his  services  to  them  as  a  convenient  escort  and  obliging  as- 
sistant, he  becomes,  in  the  ladies'  vocabulary,  "  that  dear, 
good-natured  creature"  who  can  be  used,  or  neglected, 
smiled  upon,  or  laughed  at,  at  pleasure.  In  order  to  ensure 
his  own  permanency  in  the  gay  world,  and  to  provide  for 
the  indulgence  of  his  expensive  tastes  and  habits,  he  be- 
comes a  fortune-hunter  in  the  way  of  matrimony,  and  as  the 
objects  of  his  attentions  know  the  cupidity  of  his  motives, 
they  esteem  themselves  at  liberty  to  trifle  with  his  hopes, 
and  make  him  ridiculous  and  contemptible.  Yet  the  poor 
victim,  blinded  by  vanity,  or  impelled  by  necessity,  perse- 
veres till  he  becomes  a  seedy  bachelor  past  presentation,  falls 
into  the  net  of  a  parvenu,  or  is  swept  away  by  dissipated 
habits  to  the  lowest  degradation.  Such  was  the  course  on 
which  Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  had  embarked.  He  had  met 
his  first  rejection ;  he  was  courting  a  second ;  and  what  the 
end  should  be  is  not  worth  the  anticipation. 

Christmas  Evening. — Miss  Van  Home,  Nellie  and  Perry, 
had  the  little  room  all  to  themselves.  Nellie  had  begged  off 
from  an  invitation  to  spend  the  day  with  the  rest  of  the  fam- 
ily at  the  Jays',  where  she  knew  she  would  have  little  enter- 


A  X  1)     A     ('  H  H  I  S  T  M  A  S     T  A  L  !-:  .  1  -'!  7 

tainineiit  beyond  a  romp  with  brother  Iloberi's  little  boy, 
and  a  search  for  amusement,  for  the  huudreth  ti.ne,  through 
a  portfolio  of  poor  water-Colored  and  worn  our,  r-rgrnvin;vs 
wliile  the  '  onie  and  valuable  <  nos  \vcnld  ho, 

meanly  placed  beyond  lisi1  reach.  Miss  Brown  wa;  f-pc-a ••- 
ing  the  day  wiih  friends  of  her  own.  Mr.  Albe-t  was  or 
course  dangling  about  Miss  Charlotte,  and  Mr.  Sickles  had 
persuaded  Mrs.  Seymour  to  accompany  him  on  a  visit  to 
sornc:  acquaintance  of  their  earlier  years. 

"  Miss  Van  Horue,  won't  you  please  tell  us  a  Christmas 
story  ?"  Perry  asked,  as  the  idea  occurred  lo  him  that  this 
would  help  to  while  away  the  time  that  hung  rather  heavily 
on  their  hands. 

"  Five,  six,  seven,  eight,"  Miss  Van  Home  wns  counting 
the  stiches  of  the  blue  worsted  stocking  she  was  knitting. 
The  decisive  manner  in  which  she  enunciated  the  "five, 
six,"  said  that  her  work  must  not  be  interrupted.  Perry 
waited  patiently  for  a  more  propitious  moment.  Her  voice 
subsided  on  the  "seven,  eight,"  and  she  went  on  with  her 
counting  inaudibly.  Perry  watched  her  lips  and  actions,  till 
the  counting  ceased,  and  the  careful  measurement  of  the 
stocking  with  her  long  finger  showed  that  the  narrowing 
was  complete,  and  then  lie  ventured  once  more. 

"  Miss  Van  Home,  please  tell  us  a  Christmas  story." 

"Just  look  at  that  plaguy  fire.  I've  dusted  that  pan 
twice,  and  there  it's  all  ashes  again,"  anl  Miss  Van  Home 
rose  as  she  spoke,  broke  the  crust  on  the  top  of  the  smold- 
ering coals  till  the  blaze  flew  up  the  chimney  in  one  broad 
sheet  of  light,  brushed  the  ]>a;i  till  not  a  speck  dimmed  the 
bright  re-flection  of  the  fire,  placed  the  shovel  and  tongs  in 

O  '1  O 

their  most  erect  position,  and  then,  making  the  circuit  of  the 


138  BRIGHT     S  U  M  M  E  B  -  T  I  M  Ji  , 

room,  set  every  chair  straight,  shook  up  the  sofa  cushions 
and  readjusted  the  window  curtains. 

Perry  watched  these  operations  in  silence,  knowing  well 
that  Miss  Electa  Van  Home  would  tell  no  story  so  long  as 
she  could  find  other  work  to  do.  At  last  she  resumed  her 
seat  and  her  knitting. 

"  Now,  Miss  Van  Home,"  and  Perry  moved  the  bench  on 
which  he  was  sitting  close  up  to  her,  and  motioned  to 
Nellie  to  place  her's  on  the  other  side,  "please  tell  us  a 
story  ;  a  Christmas  story." 

Miss  Van  Home  was  gratified  by  the  request.  Perry  saw 
that  in  her  face,  and  was  sure  she  had  been  conning  over 
what  to  tell  ever  since  he  first  preferred  his  request.  But 
she  still  needed  a  little  coaxing.  "She  knew  no  stories. 
She  was  not  used  to  story-telling.  There  was  something 
better  to  be  done  than  to  hear  and  to  tell  stories."  But 
Perry  persevered,  and  Nellie  put  in  a  word  of  persuasion. 
"  They  did  want  to  hear  a  story  so  much ;  and  they  were  sure 
Miss  Van  Home  could  tell  something ;  and  Christmas  night 
would  be  so  dull  if  she  did  n't ;  and  they  would  be  so  much 
obliged  if  she  did."  So  Miss  Van  Home  told  her  story,  which 
we  shall  tell  over  again,  with  some  verbal  emendations. 

"  Natie  Roget  was  the  pretiest  little  baby  that  ever  was. 
Her  mother  died  when  she  was  three  months  old,  and  she 
was  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Christiana  Van  Duyserline,  a 
young  woman  who  had  been  brought  up  in  the  Roget 
family  more  as  a  friend  than  a  dependent  and  servant,  which 
in  reality  she  was.  Christiana  loved  Xatie  as  much  as  a 
mother  could  have  done. 

"The  Rogets  were  a  Huguenof  family,  of  noble  descent. 


AND     A     CHRISTMAS     TALK.  189 

The  Count  de  Roget,  their  ancestor,  when  a  very  aged  man, 
fled  from  France  with  his  family  to  Holland,  a  few  years  be- 
fore the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  when  Madame  de 
Maintenon's  influence  with  Louis  XIV.  began  to  be  exerted 
against  the  Protestants.  Natie's  great-grandfather  came  to 
this  country  in  1750 ;  a  very  rich  man  he  was,  and  lived  in 
grand  style.  Brantz  Van  Duyserline,  a  Hollander,  came 
over  with  him,  and  was  his  confidential  servant,  and  had 
indeed  the  chief  management  of  his  estate.  But  the  Revo- 
lution made  great  havoc  of  the  fortunes  of  rich  men,  and 
Natie's  father  had  little  more  to  show  for  the  grandeur  of 
his  ancestors  than  the  great  and  half-ruined  house  in  West- 
chester  county,  with  some  two  hundred  acres  of  not  over- 
good  land.  He  kept  up  appearances,  however,  and  lived 
like  a  gentleman  all  his  days  ;  but  his  hospitality  and  gen- 
erosity eventflally  deprived  Natie  of  what  should  have  been 
her  inheritance.  The  old  house  is  gone  now  and  a  thriving 
town  is  growing  upon  the  site  of  the  old  farm. 

"  Christmas-day  was  a  great  day  in  the  Roget  family.  Com- 
pany was  invited,  far  and  near ;  and  there  was  always  a  ball 
at  night  that  lasted  till  morning.  When  Natie  was  ten 
years  old,  her  father  invited  the  children,  as  well  as  the 
grown  people,  to  the  Christmas  festival,  and  they  had  a  little 
party  by  themselves,  with  Christiana  to  take  care  of  them, 
and  Jerry,  the  black  fiddler,  to  play  for  them. 

"  Among  the  guests  was  a  boy  twelve  years  old,  whose 
mother  had  rented  a  small  house  on  Mr.  Roget's  farm,  and 
lived  there  alone  with  this  one  child.  She  was  a  lady,  very 
elegant  and  accomplished,  but  poor.  Some  thought  she 
had  married  beneath  her  and  was  ashamed  to  go  back  tc 
her  friends  after  her  husband's  death.  However  that  was, 


140  li  il  I  C  II  T     siUM  M  K  tt-TI  M  K, 

she  lived  there  alone,  in  an  h;r.n!>ui  \v::y,  ;ni  1  devoted  herself 
to  the  education  of  this  boy.  He  was  an  uncommon  child  ; 
not  handsome  exactly,  but  a  fine,  open,  good  f:ce,  wi:h  such 
a  sweet  expression,  and  a  something  which  showed  that  he 
was  a  marked  character,  different  from  or.iinary  j'.eoplo. 
He  had  the  prettiest  white  and  red  complexion,  like  a  girl's. 
His  eyes  were  gray,  large,  clear,  a. id  sparkling.  His  eye- 
brows were  thick,  even  when  lie  was  ;i  lad,  and,  what  was 
singular,  they  were  almost  black,  while  his  hair  was  a  light 
brown.  He  was  the  most  sensitive  little  fellow,  a  word 
would  bring  tears  to  his  eyes ;  and  yet  he  was  brave  and 
hardy  too.  In  his  dress  he  was  no-it  and  particular  to  a 
fault,  and  his  manners  were  gentle  and  graceful.  '  Dear 
me  !  how  folks  change !'  "  Miss  Van  Home  paused  to  ejacu- 
late. 

"  This  boy,  refined  as  he  was,  had  an  ugly  and  disagree- 
able name ;  but  that  was  nothing.  It  was  Joshua — Joshua 
Saunders." 

"  Why,"  exclaimed  Perry,  "  perhaps  it  was  uncle  Joshua 
and  then  Natie  would  be  mother,  for  she  and  uncle  Joshua 
did  know  each  other  when  children ;  only  mother's  name 
is  n't  Na'.ie." 

"  It  ought  to  have  been,  though,"  said  Miss  Van  Home, 
with  warmth.  "  Her  grandmother  was  Natie,  Natie  Van 
Shaick;  and  a  more  respectable  family  than  the  Van 
Shaicks,  never  lived  in  Westchester  county.  But  her  father 
had  a  fancy  for  English  names  and  would  not  call  her  Natie. 
But  you  must  not  suppose,  children,"  and  Miss  Van  Home, 
who  had  been  betrayed  by  her  ardor,  spoke  now  very  delib- 
erately and  emphatically,  "  that  my  story  has  any  thing  to 
do  with  Mrs.  Seymour,  or  Mr.  Sickles  either.  Of  course. 


AND    A    CHRISTMAS    TALK.  141 

I  should  tell  you  nothing  about  them.  I  won't  say  that  the 
story 's  ail  false,  nor  all  true ;  only  it 's  about  people  who 
lived  before  you  were  born — long,  long  ago."  Having  put 
this  point  beyond  question,  Miss  Van  Home  proceeded  with 
her  story. 

"  Joshua  and  Natie  met  that  Christinas  night,  for  the  first 
time.  They  liked  each  other  greatly,  and  from  that  day  be- 
came very  intimate.  As  neither  had  brothers  or  sisters,  and 
they  lived  so  near,  in  the  country  too,  it  was  not  surprising 
that  they  should  seek  each  other's  company.  But  what 
brought  them  still  oftener  together  was,  that  Mrs.  Saunders 
undertook  the  instruction  of  Natie  ;  so  they  studied  together 
as  well  as  played  together. 

"  Things  went  on  so  till  Joshua  Saunders  was  fifteen  years 
old,  when  he  and  his  mother  moved  to  New- York,  and  he 
entered  as  clerk  in  a  store.  But  he  used  often  to  visit  the 
Rogets  and  was  always  there  at  Christmas  time. 

"  The  Christmas  after  Natie  was  seventeen  years  oid, 
the  party  at  Mr.  Roget's  was  more  splendid  than  ever ;  for 
Natie  was  coming  out  now  as  a  young  lady.  There  was  a 
band  of  music  from  New  York,  and  Christiana  Van  Duyser- 
line  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  getting  up  of  the  supper 
lint  night,  for  it  was  brought  from  the  city,  with  the  waiters 
and  all.  They  were  an  impertinent  set  of  fellows,  those 
waiters,  and  it  was  well  that  Christiana  had  something  else 
to  do,  or  she  would  have  ma  le  the  house  too  hot  for  them. 
But  she  was  full  of  Natie,  dressing  her  and  admiring  her, 
and  thinking  about  hor  ;  and  if  she  was  proud  of  Naiie, 
she  had  reason  to  be,  for  Na •;.-  was  a  picture  of  beauty  that 
night.  She  wore  a  rose-colored  silk,  trimmed  with  white 
satin  puffings,  and  her  hair  was  tied  with  long  strings  of 


142  BRIGHT     SUMMER-TIME, 

pearls.  Wherever  she  moved  about  the  room,  all  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her,  and  when  she  had  passed,  a  murifhir  of  de- 
light would  be  heard.  Christiana  Van  Duyserline  worshiped 
an  idol  that  night,  and  forgot  the  instructions  of  good  Do- 
minie Van  Clief.  She  had  only  one  regret,  and  that  was  that 
Joshua  Saunders  was  not  there  to  see  Natie  ;  he,  poor  boy, 
for  the  first  time  in  eight  years  was  absent  from  the  Christ- 
mas festival.  His  mother  was  very  ill — she  died,  poor 
lady. 

"  Many  a  fine  fellow  lost  his  heart  at  that  Christmas  ball. 
Among  the  rest  was  an  officer,  dressed  in  regimentals,  a  tall, 
handsome  man,  as  ever  you  saw ;  of  good  family,  too,  and 
already  distinguished.  But  he  was  older  by  a  great  deal 
than  Natie,  and  ought  not  to  have  thought  of  such  a  young 
thing  as  she  was.  After  all  the  company  was  gone,  and 
Natie  had  retired  to  her  own  room,  she  could  talk  of  no  one 
but  that  elegant  and  captivating  Captain  Palmer.  Christi- 
ana let  her  go  on  for  some  time,  and  then  she  said  in  a  quiet 
way,  "  There  was  not  a  man  here  to-night  as  good-looking 
and  as  clever  as  young  Joshua  Saunders !"  Natie  never  said 
another  word,  but  undressed  and  went  to  bed  as  softly  as  the 
moonlight  that  was  streaming  in  through  the  windows. 

"Day  after  day,  for  two  or  three  weeks,  Captain  Palmer 
kept  coming  to  Mr.  Roget's.  He  talked  to  Natie,  drove  her 
out  in  the  gig,  rode  with  her  on  horseback,  sailed  with  her 
on  the  Sound,  and  sung  with  her  at  the  piano.  Natie  grew 
prettier  and  prettier  every  day.  She  seemed  like  one  intoxi- 
cated with  happiness  :  her  eyes  sparkled  so,  and  her  cheeks 
were  so  flushed,  and  her  laugh  so  frequent  and  merry.  But 
she  never  said  any  thing  to  Christiana  Van  Duyserline  about 
Captain  Palmer,  after  the  first  night,  when  Christiana  put 


AND     A     CHRISTMAS    TALK.  143 

her  down  so.  At  last  Christiana  determined  to  be  the  first 
to  speak.  * 

" '  Natie,'  she  said,  one  day, '  what  does  that  officer  keep 
coming  here  for  ?' 

" '  Perhaps  he  is  in  love,'  she  answered,  laughingly. 

" '  Natie,  do  you  mean  to  have  him  ?'  Christiana  asked, 
point  blank. 

"  '  Father  says  I  may,'  she  answered,  laughingly  as  before  ; 
but  it  was  not  altogether  a  joyous  laugh,  it  was  too  nervous 
and  excited  for  that. 

"  Now  Christiana  thought  that  she,  who  had  loved  her 
and  cared  for  her  as  a  mother,  ought  to  have  been  consulted 
in  this  matter,  as  well  as  her  father ;  and  so,  perhaps,  she 
was  not  over  careful  what  she  said. 

"  '  Natie,'  she  said,  '  you  '11  break  the  heart  of  a  man  who 
is  worth  a  hundred  Captain  Palmers.' 

"  '  What  do  you  mean  ?'  asked  Natie,  either  not  under- 
standing, or  pretending  not  to  ;  but  she  looked  a  little  flur- 
ried. 

" '  I  mean  Joshua  Saunders,'  said  Christiana,  '  who  has 
loved  you  ever  since  you  were  ten  years  old  and  he  twelve.' 

"  '  What  nonsense  !'  said  Natie,  trying  to  laugh  ;  but  she 
could  not  quite  make  it  out.  '  Joshua  loves  me  just  as  I 
love  him,  as  brothers  and  sisters  may  love.' 

"  '  Joshua  Sauniers  loves  you  as  never  brother  loved  sister 
yet,  and  you  know  it,'  said  Christiana,  sternly. 

"  '  Why,  dear  Christiana,'  said  Natie,  almost  crying  now, 
'  how  can  you  say  so  ?  Joshua  never  said  so,  and  never 
asked  me  to  marry  him.' 

"  '  No,  Natie,'  answered  Christiana,  softening  down  in  her 
way  of  speaking,  as  she  began  to  pity  the  child, 4  Joshua 


144  BRIGHT    SUMMER-TIME, 

never  said  so,  because  it  would  not  have  been  right,  and  be- 
cause he  never  thought  it  necessary.  The  time  has  not 
come  yet  You  are  both  too  young,  and  he  is  not  in  busi- 
ness ;  he  could  not  say  any  thing  about  marriage.  But 
Joshua  shows  his  love  to  you  as  plain  as  if  he  spoke  it,  and 
I  believe  that  you,  in  your  heart,  love  him." 

"  4  Dear  Chrisfiana,'  said  NnHe,  weeping  now  violently,  '  I 
do  love  Joshua  so  much  that  the  possibili'y  of  giving  him 
pain  distresses  me  beyond  measure.  Ihit  then  I  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing  as  marrying  him,  and  I  hope,  for  all 
you  say,  that  he  never  has.  But  I  can't  he!i>  it  r.o\v.  I  sm 
engaged  to  Captain  Palmer,  and  I  am  suiv  I  love  him  as  I 
never  could  any  one  else.' 

"  Christiana's  woman's  heart  was  touched.  Sh-"  said  nothing 
more  about  Joshua,  but  tried  to  lo  >k  r.t  matters  as  Nstie  did, 
and  though  she  had  her  doubts  and  misgivings,  she  per- 
suaded herself  that  Na'.ie  did  light  in  chousing  the  captain. 

"The  captain  was  ordered  away  on  a  lo:ig  cruise,  and  that 
was  an  excuse  fur  hurrying  the  wedding.  In  three  months 
after  Natie  first  smv  him,  Domini ,»  V;m  Clief  manied  her  to 
Captain  Palmer. 

"  During  these  three  months  Joshua  Saunders  never  came 
to  the  Rogets.  His  sick  mother  required  ;:!!  his  care.  He 
never  knew  of  the  engagement  even,  till  he  received  notes  of 
invitation  to  the  welling.  From  that  ray  he  became  a 
changed  man.  His  mother  die  1,  and  Natie  existed  no  more 
for  him  :  he  had  1:0  iv!;:ti\e;  t!;;V  he  c:  r  d  !'<•!•  and  few  ac- 
quaintances. He  w.-is  alone  in  the  world.  Like  many 
another  man  in  similar  temptation,  he  g:;\v  himself  up  to 
money-making.  He  became  a  rich  and  great  merchant.  He 
tried  to  l.iry  every  thought  in  the  one  pursuit,  and  to  make 


AND     A     CHRISTMAS     TALE.  145 

the  world  and  himself  think  that  he  cared  for  nothing  but 
money.  He  neglected  his  dress,  affected  rough  manners  and 
sought  under  the  guise  of  eccentricity  to  cover  up  from  ob- 
.  servation  the  wound  which  this  early  disappointment  made 
in  bis  too  sensitive  nature." 

*  Did  he  never  marry  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

'•No:  unless  late  in  life — that  I  can't  say  positively — he 
lived  and  died  a  bachelor." 

"  He  is  dead,  then ! "  said  Perry. 

"  So  my  story  goes,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  Perry,  "  1  hoped  the  captain 
would  be  killed,  and  he  and  Natie  would  get  married." 

"  We  can't  have  all  we  hope  for  and  would  not  always 
hope  for  what  we  do,  if  we  knew  the  consequences,"  remark- 
ed Miss  Van  Home,  oracularly. 

"  What  became  of  Natie  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

"  Natie  was  dazzled  into  making  a  great  match  :  but  I 
doubt  if  she  found  all  in  her  husband  she  had  expected.  He, 
however,  was  kind  and  generous ;  and  was  much  away  at 
sea.  Soon  after  her  marriage,  her  father  died  and  left  her 
without  a  cent :  the  house  and  farm  were  sold  to  pay  his 
debts.  From  that  time  they  were  dependent  on  the  small 
compensation  that  an  officer  received,  smaller  then  than  now. 
She  devoted  herself  to  the  care  of  her  children.  She  had  no 
time  to  improve  her  mind.  She  never  knew  more  than  she 
did  when  she  was  married,  a  mere  child  of  seventeen ;  and 
her  few  and  imperfect  accomplishments  were  soon  forgotten. 
It  was  well  it  was  so,  perhaps;  for  fifteen  years  after  her 
marriage,  her  husband  died  and  left  her  wholly  dependent, 
for  the  support  of  herself  and  her  children,  on  her  own  ex- 
ertions." 

7 


146  BRIGHT     SUMMER-TIME. 

"  Did  n't  Mr.  Saunders  help  her  then  2"  asked  Perry,  with 
a  glow  of  indignation. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  He  proved  a  true  friend  and  did  all  that  he 
could  in  a  delicate  way." 

"  Why  did  n't  he  marry  her  ?"  Perry  asked  again. 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps,  she  would  n't  have  him.  Perhaps 
he  had  lost  his  love  for  her,  in  the  love  of  money.  He  was 
changed,  you  must  remember.  He  was  n't  the  same  man  he 
once  was." 

"  Why  did  n't  Christiana  help  her  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

"  Who  said  she  did  not  ?"  answered  Miss  Van  Home,  almost 
fiercely.  "I  guess  if  it  had  not  been  for  Christiana  Van  Duy- 
serline,  Natie  Palmer  never  could  have  got  along  as  she  did. 
Not  that  Mrs.  Palmer  was  incapable.  No,  Christiana  had 
given  her  good  instruction  and  useful  habits.  Mrs.  Palmer  was 
no  sickly,  helpless,  doleful  creature,  but  as  well  and  hearty,  ac- 
tive and  business-like,  and  good  natured  and  cheerful  too,  as 
need  be : — only  she  was  a  little  too  much  of  a  lady  after  all,  for 
the  rough  kind  of  work  she  had  to  do.  It  was  a  pity  of  her  ! " 

There  were  footsteps  heard  at  that  moment  in  the  entry. 
Miss  Van  Home  looked  disturbed,  and  with  hasty  over-pru- 
dence, gave  this  injunction.  "  Be  very  careful,  children,  not 
to  repeat  this  story." 

The  children  looked  at  each  other  inquiringly,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  What  does  that  imply  ?"  But  Mrs.  Seymour  was 
already  in  the  room,  and  they  could  not  utter  their  thoughts. 
But  with  the  story  and  its  strong  resemblances,  and  the 
knowledge  that  it  was  not  to  be  spoken  of,  and  with  eyes  to 
observe  things  for  themselves,  the  secret  was  all  but  known 
already,  and  was  safe  in  their  honorable  keeping. 

Miss  Electa  Van  Home  had  been  betrayed  into  betraying 
family  confidences. 


XVI. 

0n  jfflung  Slmtlfcus. 


"In  the  naked  temper  which  a  merry  heart  discovered,  he  would  say,  there  is 
no  danger,  but  to  itself;  whereas  the  very  essence  of  gravity  was  design,  and  con- 
sequently deceit  —  't  was  a  taught  trick,  to  gain  credit  of  the  world  for  more  sense 
and  knowledge  than  a  man  was  worth  ;  and  that,  with  all  his  pretensions,  it  was 
no  better,  but  often  worse,  than  what  a  French  wit  had  long  ago  defined  it,  vie., 
A  mysterious  carriage  of  the  body,  to  cover  the  defects  of  the  mind.  —  LAURENCE 
STERNE. 

TT7~HEN  the  summer  came  again,  the  elder  members  of  the 
family  deserted  Truro  for  the  resorts  of  fashionable 
amusement,  and  left  Maria  and  Helen  with  their  governess, 
in  the  secluded  enjoyment  of  the  fine  old  estate. 

Harry  and  Perry  Seymour  came  again  to  spend  their  va- 
cation there.  The  latter  was  unusually  sedate  on  the  first 
evening  of  his  arrival.  Nellie  remarked  it  and  was  afraid 
some  misfortune  had  befallen  him  ;  but,  observing  that  grav- 
ity yielded  to  mirthfulness,  on  slight  provocations,  and  was 
resumed  again  with  evident  effort,  Nellie  concluded  sagely, 
that  as  Perry  was  now  a  big  boy,  he  was  trying  to  be  manly 
in  his  deportment. 

The  next  morning  they  started  together  to  visit  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hughes.  Nellie  found  that  she  had  an  unsocial  com- 
panion. He  had  no  eye  for  the  flowers,  no  ear  for  the  sing- 
ing birds,  no  answering  word  or  look  to  Nellie's  merry 
sallies,  no  wish  to  run,  no  will  to  talk,  not  even  a  hand  to 
clasp  her's  in  that  friendly  fashion  which  indicates  with 
chiMren  kind  and  intimate  interest. 


148         WISE     HEADS     ON     YOUNG     SHOULDERS. 

At  last,  Nellie  desisted  from  her  attempts  to  draw  him  out 
of  the  shell  he  had  chosen  to  hide  himself  in,  and  walked 
silently  beside  him,  watching  his  countenance,  and  trying  to 
discover  what  kind  of  a  shell  it  was.  Was  it  sorrow,  sullen- 
ness,  or  suffering  ?  It  was  not  an  unhappy  look  ;  no,  she  was 
sure  nothing  very  bad  had  happened.  It  was  not  an  angry 
or  pouting  look ;  so  it  could  not  be-  that  he  was  offended. 
It  was  not  a  sick  look ;  no,  it  was  only  a  set,  demure,  as- 
sumed look ;  a  look  not  at  all  natural  to  him,  nor  becoming. 
He  had  put  on  a  long,  made-up  face.  But  what  for  ?  That 
she  could  not  divine. 

They  came  to  the  stile.  Perry  sat  down  on  the  second 
step ;  Nellie  took  her  seat  beside  him.  Perry  gave  a  little 
sigh  ;  Nellie  grew  stiller.  She  knew  something  was  coming, 
and  was  afraid  to  move,  almost  to  breathe,  lest  it  might  be 
delayed,  or  prevented.  She  did  not  wait  long. 

"  Nellie,"  he  began,  in  dolefully-dolorous  accents,  "  I  have 
sometMng  to  tell  you." 

Nellie  kept  still. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  be  surprised,  for  you  know  how  wicked 
I  have  been.  But  I  hope  that 's  all  past  now  :  and  I  think  I 
ought  to  tell  you,  that  I  have  come  out,  and  made  a  profes- 
sion of'  religion  and  was  admitted  to  the  communion  last 
Sunday." 

What  was  there  amusing,  what  but  serious  and  solemn,  in 
this  information  ?  That  Nellie  should  smile  at  it,  should  be 
tempted  to  laugh  outright,  some  persons  could  not  under- 
stand :  they  would  shake  their  heads  at  her  and  tell  her  she 
was  a  naughty  girl.  But  Nellie  did  not  laugh  at  the  infor- 
mation, but  at  the  way  in  which  it  was  communicated.  The 
manner  was  so  inappropriate  to  the  subject,  the  conclusion 


WISE     HEADS     ON     YOUNG     SHOULDERS.         149 

so  different  from  what  the  preface  had  prepared  her  for — had 
he  confessed  some  great  crime,  he  could  not  have  worn  a 
more  woe-begone  countenance — -but  why  did  he  lay  aside  his 
frank,  cheerful,  pleasant  ways,  to  tell  her  in  this  sanctimon- 
ious style  such  good  tidings  ?  Was  there  not  something 
in  the  utter  want  of  propriety  between  manner  and  matter,  to 
provoke  risibility  ?  and  Nellie  was  a  great  laugher  :  but  she 
clapped  both  her  hands  over  her  mouth,  after  her  old  child- 
ish fashion,  and  kept  them  there  till  she  was  sure  she  could 
speak  with  becoming  seriousness ;  and  before  he  even  suspect- 
ed her  of  laughing,  she  was  able  to  say,  with  all  the  warmth 
of  her  true  heart : 

"Dear  Perry,  I  am  so  glad." 

"Are  you  ?"  said  Perry,  more  in  his  natural  tone  now,  for 
Nellie's  unaffected  simplicity  made  him  forget  mere  manner- 
isms ;  "are  you,  Nellie  ?  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  be,  but 
I  was  not  sure." 

"  Oh,  Perry,"  she  answered  with  a  grieved  and  surprised 
air,  "  how  could  you  doubt  that  I  would  be  glad  to  hear  it?" 

"  I  don't  know,  Nellie.  I  ought  not  to  have.  But  tell  me, 
Nellie,  do  you  think  that  you  are  pious  ?" 

"  Pious  ?"  she  answered  deliberatingly  :  "  I  don't  know 
that  I  ought  to  say  '  pious.'  That  seems  to  mean  more  good- 
ness than  I  have.  But,"  and  her  voice  lowered  and  trembled, 
without  losing  distinctness  and  earnestness,  "  I  think,  Perry, 
I  do  love  the  Lord  Jesus  and  feel  that  He  loves  me." 

"  How  long  have  you  thought  so,  Nellie  ?" 

"Always,  I  believe.  At  least  always  since  I  knew  cousin 
Hetty  Hughes ;  and  since  her  little  baby,  Georgie,  died,  I 
have  been  quite  sure  of  it.  I  never  knew  exactly  what  it 
was  to  love  Jesus  before  that.  If  you  could  have  heard  Mr. 


150        WISE     HEADS     ON     YOUNG     SHOULDERS. 

Hughes  say,  when  the  little  thing  breathed  its  last  breath, 
those  Bible  words,  '  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken 
away ;  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord ! '  It  was  not  the 
words,  though  they  are  beautiful :  but  the  way  he  said  them. 
Oh,  how  he  did  feel :  so  sorry  and  yet  so  willing  to  be  sorry : 
it  seemed  as  if  it  would  break  my  heart  to  hear  him  and  yet 
there  was  a  kind  of  joy  in  it.  When  he  came  to  that  part, 
'  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord,' — I  don't  know  what  it 
was  like  unless  something  in  music,  as  if  the  loudest  and  soft- 
est notes  of  an  organ  were  all  melted  into  one.  I  was  kneeling 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  I  could  not  move ;  for  I  do  believe 
I  was  expecting  the  angels  of  Heaven  to  answer  him  back ! 
And  then  to  listen  afterward  to  Mr.  Hughes  and  cousin  Hetty 
when  they  were  talking  about  the  little  baby  ; — it  seemed  as 
if  they  took  the  Bible  to  mean  every  thing  just  as  it  says,  as 
if  they  saw  it  all  as  plain  as  they  saw  the  flowers,  and 
believed  it  as  much  as  they  believed  that  the  sun  gave 
light  to  the  earth.  And  whatever  they  talked  about,  they 
always  ended  with  love  to  Christ  and  faith  in  His  word. 
Sometimes  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  see  the  Saviour  with 
their  eyes,  they  talked  of  him  so  lovingly  and  so  trustingly. 
Well,  Perry,  I  used  to  sit  and  listen  to  them,  and  at  last  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  they  had  a  feeling  toward  the 
Saviour,  in  their  hearts,  which  I  did  not  have  in  mine.  It 
puzzled  me  a  great  while  to  find  out  what  that  was.  But  it 
set  me  to  reading  the  Bible  and  listening  to  Mr.  Poole's  ser- 
mons, as  attentively  as  I  could.  And  at  last  I  thought  I 
found  out.  what  was  the  matter. — You  're  not  tired,  are  you 
Perry  ?" 

"  Oh,  no.     Go  on,  Nellie." 

"  I  found  out,  Perry,  that  I  loved  the  Saviour,  because,  as  I 


WISE     HEADS     OH     YOUNG     SHOULDERS.        151 

supposed,  He  loved  flowers  and  birds  and  every  pleasant  and 
beautiful  thing,  and  because  He  is  tender  and  gentle  and  for- 
giving and  withal  very  great  and  glorious  and  majestic. 
But  I  had  never  loved  Him  as  the  Saviour  from  sin  and  death. 
I  had  never  understood  what  a  sinner  I  was,  and  what  he  had 
endured  to  save  me,  and  how  His  love  shines  in  His  willing- 
ness to  save  such  as  me.  I  did  not  find  this  out  all  at  once. 
It  kept  breaking  upon  me  by  little  and  little,  and  growing 
clearer  and  clearer,  just  as  daylight  does  in  the  morning : 
and  then,  when  it  was  all  light,  I  knew  that  I  did  love  Jesus 
as  I  had  never  loved  Him  before  :  and,  oh,  Perry,  I  felt  as  I 
never  felt  before  (though  I  never  doubted  it  either,  yet  I  have 
felt  sure  since),  that  Jesus  does  love  me." 

"  Oh,  Nellie,  I  am  so  glad  !" 

"  So  am  I !"  responded  Nellie,  in  a  breath,  and  then  both 
laughed  at  the  queerness  of  her  saying  so. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  it  is  time  to  go,  or  Mr.  Hughes  will 
be  away." 

"  Wait,  Nellie,"  he  said,  "  I  have  not  told  you  all.  I  think 
some  of  being  a  minister,  and  Mr.  Sickles  told  mother — he 
did  it  in  his  queer  way,  I  can't  tell  you  how  now,  I  will  some 
other  time.  Mr.  Sickles  says  I  shall  not  be  a  burden  on 
mother  while  pursuing  my  studies,  in  case  I  determine  to — " 

"  Is  n't  Mr.  Sickles  good  ?"  interrupted  Nellie. 

"  Yes ;  good  that  way,  and  I  hope  in  the  other  way  too," 
Perry  answered.  "  But,  you  know,  he  always  does  things 
after  his  own  fashion.  He  says  I  must  go  to  some  college 
out  of  New  York  city." 

"  What  is  that  for  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

"  Chiefly,  I  believe,  because  he  thinks  Albert  did  not  turn 
out  very  well ;  and  partly,  he  says,  because  I  need  country 


152        WISE     HEADS     ON    YOUNG     SHOULDERS. 

air  and  exercise.  But,  Nellie,  what  do  you  think  of  my 
being  a  minister  ?" 

"  1  think,  Perry,  it  is  the  very  best  thing  ever  could  hap- 
pen. It  is  just  what  I  always  wanted  you  to  be." 

"  Did  you  ?  But  do  you  really  think  I  can  ever  be  grave 
and  serious  enough.  I  am  so  fond  of  fun.  For  the  last  two 
weeks  I  have  been  trying  to  act  as  I  suppose  one  who  means 
to  be  a  minister  ought  to ;  and,  Oh,  Nellie  !  it  is  such  hard 
work !  I  think  of  every  thing  that  is  awful  and  solemn ;  of 
death  and  judgment  and  eternity  ;  the  worth  of  souls  and  the 
horrors  of  being  lost.  But  I  must  be  very,  very  bad,  Nellie, 
for  after  all,  I  find  myself  jesting,  and  laughing,  and  trifling, 
like  the  most  frivolous  boy  there  is.  I  do  believe  Harry, 
wild  and  thoughtless  as  he  is,  is  better  than  I." 

Nellie  was  thinking.  He  construed  her  silence  into  as- 
sent, and,  after  a  pause,  he  added,  dejectedly,  "  I  am  afraid  I 
never  can  be  a  good  Christian,  unless  I  go  away  from  '  the 
world's  people'  altogether,  as  the  Shakers  do." 

Nellie  deliberated  a  long  time  before  she  spoke,  and  when 
she  did,  it  was  with  evident  diffidence  of  her  own  judgment. 

"  Perry,  I  am  sure  you  are  wrong.  I  am  afraid  to  say  so, 
though,  for  fear  I  might  tell  you  wrong.  But  one  thing  I 
do  know,  that  when  you  were  trying  to  look  Christian-like, 
you  did  not  look  so  one  bit.  It  never  entered  my  head  that 
you  were  trying  to  be  good.  You  just  wore  a  long,  solemn- 
choly,  put-on  kind  of  face.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it  gave 
me  ugly  feelings  in  my  heart  toward  you,  as  if  you  wanted  to 
impose  upon  me.  I  suspected,  perhaps,  that  you  wished  to 
seem  manly  and  indifferent  to  such  childish  things  as  please 
me.  And  when  you  began  to  tell  me  that  you  hope  you  are 
a  Christian,  why,  Perry,  you  did  not  say  it  at  all  as  I  should 


WI8EHEAD8     ON     YOU  NO     SHOULDERS.         163 

have  expected.  You  did  not  seem  to  think  it  a  thing  to  be 
glad  about.  You  spoke  as  if  it  was  something  that  could 
not  be  talked  of  freely  and  cheerfully  ;  something  dreadful. 
Why,  Perry,  when  you  came  out  with  it  at  last,  I  liked  to 
have  laughed." 

And  Nellie  laughed  now.  But  Perry  did  not ;  and  it  was 
with  no  affected  gravity,  but  real  sadness,  that  he  said, 

"  Well,  Nellie,  that  just  proves  what  I  said,  I  can  not  be 
sober  and  sedate  if  I  try,  and  so  I  ought  not  to  be  a  minis- 
ter." 

"  Oh,  Perry !"  she  said,  with  earnestness,  "  I  think  you 
ought  to  be.  I  am  sure  you  are  meant  for  a  minister.  But 
I  tell  you  what  I  would  do.  I  would  just  act  naturally  as 
you  have  always  done — act  just  as  you  feel — and,  perhaps,  if 
ministers  must  look  solemn,  the  solemn  look  will  come  of 
itself,  without  your  trying  to  get  it." 

"  I  don't  know,  Nellie,"  he  answered,  despondingly,  "  but 
that  you  are  right.  It  seems,  at  any  rate,  that  there  is  no 
use  in  my  trying  to  be  what  I  am  not." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that,  Perry  ;"  she  interposed  anxiously. 
"  You  must  n't  give  up  all  '  trying.'  You  must  try  to  be 
good  and  to  feel  right.  But  I  was  talking  about  '  looks.1 
I  don't  believe  good  men  think  about  their  '  looks'  at  all. 
If  they  have  good  '  looks,'  it  is  because  they  have  good 
hearts." 

"  That 's  a  fact,  Nellie,"  he  responded,  brightening  up.  "  I 
mean  to  try  to  have  a  good  heart,  and  let  my  looks  take 
care  of  themselves." 

"  If  you  knew,"  Nellie  said  smiling,  "  how  disagreeable 
your  looks  were  this  morning,  I  am  sure  you  would  never 

wish  to  practice   them,  even  if  you  are  to  be  a  minister. 

7* 


154        WISE     HEADS     ON    YOUNG-SHOULDERS. 

But  come,  we  must  huny  to  Cousin  Hetty's ;  and  please, 
Perry,  do  not  make  up  your  mind  that  you  are  not  fit  for  a 
minister." 

Never  from  that  day  did  Perry  put  on  a  look.  He  let  his 
looks  come  and  go  upon  his  tell-tale  face  just  as  they  pleased, 
and  had  always  been  used  to  do. 

Those  two  children,  sitting  on  the  style,  talking  in  their 
simplicity,  wire  they  poor  philosophers  ? 


XVII. 

iMstUs  m  thistles  still 


"God  hateth  uncomfortable  doctrine,  heavy  and  sorrowful  cogitations,  and 
loveth  cheerful  hearts.  For  therefore  hath  He  sent  His  Son,  not  to  oppress  us 
with  heaviness  and  sorrow,  but  to  cheer  up  our  souls  in  Him.  *  *  Such  as  will 
be  true  followers  of  the  Gospel  must  not  be  sharp  and  bitter,  but  gentle,  mild 
courteous  and  fair  spoken  ;  which  should  encourage  others  to  delight  in  their  com- 
pany. Such  a  one  was  our  Saviour  Christ,  as  every  where  is  to  be  seen  in  the 
Gospel  It  Is  written  of  Peter  that  he  wept  so  often  as  he  remembered  the 
sweet  mildness  of  Christ,  which  He  used  In  His  daily  conversation." 

MARTIN  LUTHER. 

TPHE  next  winter  Maria  passed  from  under  the  hands  of 
•*•  Miss  Brown,  and  tacitly  suffered  ejectment  from  the  se- 
clusion of  her  past  life,  into  the  excitement  of  the  gay  world, 
never  to  become  a  component  part  of  that  world,  unless  the 
part  of  a  unit  added  to  the  million,  one  to  the  number,  and 
naught  to  the  quality. 

Even  more  quietly  than  the  last  passed  the  winter  with 
Nellie.  Perry  was  away.  He  had  entered  college.  He 
spent  the  Christmas  holidays  at  home,  but  he  must  needs 
bring  a  friend  with  him,  who  greatly  subtracted  from  Nellie's 
enjoyment  of  the  visit. 

It  was  one  of  Perry's  peculiarities  that  he  was  every  body's 
friend,  the  consequence  of  which  was  that  every  body  thought 
himself,  particularly,  specially,  a  IK!  intimately  a  friend  of 
Perry's.  The  least  interesting,  most  gawky  boy  in  the  school 
was  always  sure  of  Perry's  regard,  and  made  the  most  of  it  : 
and  Perry,  having  more  benevolence,  not  less  discrimination, 


156  GARDEN     THISTLES 

than  most  persons,  permitted  the  oddities  and  forlornities  of 
human  nature,  whom  most  persons  would  shake  off,  to  hold 
fast  to  his  skirts  :  and  if  they  chose  to  put  themselves  on  his 
kindness  and  hospitality  on  a  holiday,  or  at  dinner  or  tea- 
time,  Perry  thought  it  was  all  right,  and  often  imagined  that 
he  had  invited  some  one  to  come  and  see  him,  who  in  point 
of  fact  had  invited  himself.  Even  Mrs.  Seymour's  good  na- 
ture was  on  occasions  rumpled  by  this  peculiarity  of  her 
good-natured  son ;  and  Albert,  his  exquisite  brother,  judging 
of  Perry  according  to  the  copy-book,  by  the  company  he 
kept,  pronounced  him  a  reproach  to  the  family,  and  utterly 
unqualified  to  be  a  gentleman. 

Going  to  college,  it  seems,  had  not  changed  Perry's  char- 
itable propensities  toward  those  who  otherwise  had-  been 
friendless.  Mrs.  Seymour  was  at  one  window  of  the  large 
drawing-room,  and  Nellie  at  another,  watching  for  his  arrival. 
They  saw  him  approaching ;  but  not  alone.  Beside  him 
stalked  a  gaunt,  bony  figure,  noticeable  for  its  height  and  pe- 
culiar carriage.  The  body  was  innocent  of  any  participation 
in  the  act  of  walking ; — why  should  it  ?  the  legs  were  made 
for  locomotion,  and  the  upper  two  stories  of  the  human  ani- 
mal have  their  own  work  to  do.  In  the  present  instance,  by 
a  more  just  division  of  labor  than  usually  happens,  the 
legs  were  left  to  do  the  walking,  while  ^he  other  members 
remained  at  rest.  Erect  and  motionless,  with  arms  hanging 
stiff  and  straight,  as  if  pinned  to  the  sides,  the  body  was 
borne  along  by  the  two  legs,  which  were  thrown  forward  one 
before  the  other,  with  measured  precision,  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  a  pair  of  legs  running  away  with  a  body  that  was 
so  much  dead  and  resistless  matter. 

"Who  on  earth — "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Seymour 


ARE     THISTLES     STILL.  157 

"  Pshaw !"  responded  Nellie — and  both  turned  from  the 
window,  to  await  the  advent  of  Perry,  and  introduction  of 
one  of  hit  friends. 

The  attendance  of  this  friend  deprived  Perry  of  the  pleas- 
ure of  meeting  Nellie  in  the  hall :  she  did  not  even  stand 
ready  to  welcome  him  at  the  door  of  the  parlor,  but  remain- 
ed seated  on  the  sofa.  When  the  friend  was  duly  announced, 
Nellie  was  sure  she  had  seen  him  before.  The  name  too — 
uMr.  Stryker" — what  association  had  she  with  it?  Then, 
like  a  flash,  came  the  recollection  of  "  the  fashionable  boot 
and  shoemaker"  of  Cedar  ville — could  this  be — she  looked 
again — yes — the  flaming  red  hair,  the  high,  narrow  forehead, 
the  eye-lids  without  lashes,  the  freckled  skin — it  was  Jim 
Stryker,  the  quondam  Sunday  school-mate.  If  she  needed 
confirmation  she  soon  had  it.  The  limbs  of  locomotion  raised 
the  body  to  which  they  were  attached  from  the  chair  on  which 
it  was  sitting,  and  carried  it  in  a  straight  line  to  the  sofa,  and 
there  let  it  down  again  in  undesirable  contiguity  to  herself: 
and  the  owner  of  the  limbs  and  body  addressed  Nellie  in 
these  words. 

"  We  are  old  acquaintances.  Perhaps  you  do  not  remem- 
ber me  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do.  You  are  from  Cedarville.  I  used  to  see  you 
in  the  Sunday-school." 

"  Is  there  much  solemnity  now  in  Cedarville  ?"  was  the 
next  question,  without  any  change  in  the  harsh  and  high- 
pitched  voice. 

«  Sir  ?" 

"  Is  there  much  religious  feeling  among  the  members  of 
the  church  ?" 


158  GARDEN    THISTLES 

Nellie  was  not  sure  of  the  drift  of  the  question,  and  while 
meditating  an  answer,  was  startled  by  another  question. 

"  I  hope,  Miss  Lee,  you  are  not  averse  to  religious  conver- 
sation ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  she  answered  heartily,  "  why  should  you  think 
so?" 

"  You  seemed  to  hesitate  in  your  reply  to  my  question," 
he  said. 

"  I  was  not  sure  that  I  understood  it,  sir." 

"  I  meant,"  he  explained,  "  whether  there  was  any  peculiar 
interest  in  the  subject  of  religion,  more  engagedness  and 
prayerful  ness  than  usual  among  church  members,  and  any 
awakening  and  conversions  among  the  thoughtless  and  im- 
penitent ?" 

"More  than  usual?"  Nellie  answered,  meditatingly,  "I 
should  not  say  more  than  usual.  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  That  is  melancholy,"  said  Mr.  Stryker.  "  How  cold  and 
formal,  worldly  and  wicked  the  people  of  Cedarville  are." 

Nellie  listened  with  astonishment.  This  did  not  describe 
the  simple,  warm-hearted,  church-going  people  of  Cedarville 
at  all,  according  to  her  apprehension  of  things. 

"Do  you  know  Mr.  Amos  Graves?"  began  Mr.  Stryker,  again. 

"  I  have  seen  him  in  the  store,"  she  replied,  and  she 
smiled ;  for  she  recollected  Mr.  Graves'  earnest  exhortation 
to  her,  not  to  adorn  herself  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  the  last 
time  she  bought  brown  muslin  at  Slater's  store. 

"  Mr.  Graves  is  of  the  salt  of  the  earth,"  remarked  Mr. 
Stryker.  "He  keeps  that  church  alive.  I  do  not  know 
what  it  would  be  without  him  ;  for  Mr.  Poole  is  so — so — he 
is  a  good  man,  but  very  lifeless." 

Nellie  had  never  heard  Mr.  Poole  spoken  of  but  with  the 


ARE     THISTLES     STILL.  159 

highest  respect.  She  was  shocked,  and  attempted  no  reply 
Mr.  Stryker  changed  the  subject  of  conversation,  not,  as  it 
proved,  more  to  her  taste. 

"  You  are  very  gay,  here  in  the  city,  I  suppose  ?"        . 

"  Do  you  mean  me,  or  all  the  people  of  New  York  ?"  in- 
quired Nellie,  with  simplicity. 

"  You,  I  mean.  I  suppose  you  see  a  great  deal  of  the 
fashionable  and  gay  world  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  and  Nellie  laughed  outright,  "  I  am  only 
twelve  years  old,  and  have  not  a  chance  to  see  much  of  the 
world." 

"  I  hope  you  never  will,"  he  said,  solemnly.  "  And  you 
must  not  forget  that,  though  'only  twelve  years  old,'  you 
may  die  before  you  are  older,  and  ought  to  be  ready  for 
death.  I  see,  you  look  very  pale  and  delicate.  I  fear  you 
can  not  live  long." 

This  alarming  information  made  Nellie  feel  '  pale  and  deli- 
cate' all  over.  She  had  never  been  sick  a  day  in  her  life, 
that  she  remembered,  and  did  not  know  what  it  was  to  have 
a  pain  or  an  ache.  But  to  be  told  so  seriously,  and  with 
such  assurance,  by  a  very  solemn  man,  that  she  was  prob- 
ably near  death,  was  not  pleasant,  to  say  the  least.  To 
weaker  nerves  than  Nellie's,  it  would  have  been  agitating. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  that  Mr.  Stryker  with  you  ?"  she 
said  to  Peny,  next  day. 

"  Do  you  not  fancy  him  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Fancy  him  !  He 's  a  dreadful  man.  What  do  ycu  think 
he  said  to  me  last  night  ?  He  said  I  looked  pale  and  deli- 
cate, and  he  did  not  believe  I  would  live  long." 

"  He  meant  well,  Nellie." 

"  He  meant  to  frighten  me  into  religion.     Would  you  call 


160  GARDEN     THISTLES 

that '  well  ?'  Oh,  dear,  I  wonder  if  he  can  be  a  Christian  ? 
Mr.  Poole  never  talks  so  to  me." 

"  Nellie  dear,  Christians  must  have  their  peculiarities.  If 
Mr*  Poole  and  he  were  not  Christians,  they  would  be,  per- 
haps, even  more  different  than  they  are.  He  is  not  the 
same  stuff  that  Mr.  Poole  is  made  of;  but  he  is  a  good  man 
— so  devoted,  always  ready  for  religious  conversation,  and  so 
ardent  in  seeking  the  salvation  of  others.  You  would  like 
him  if  you  knew  him  better." 

"  I  don't  wish  to  know  him,"  she  said,  indignantly.  "  And 
I  do  wonder  how  you,  who  are  so  different,  ever  became  in- 
timate with  him." 

"I  am  not  exactly  'intimate'  with  him,  Nellie.  It  hap- 
pened that  we  met  one  day,  not  long  ago,  at  the  theological 
seminary,  of  which  he  is  a  student,  and  soon  got  talking  of 
Cedarville ;  and  finding  that  we  had  so  many  mutual  ac- 
quaintances, the  feeling  grew  up,  somehow,  that  we  were  old 
friends." 

"  Suppose  you  were,"  said  Nellie,  whose  good-nature  was 
disturbed,  "  what  did  you  bring  him  here  for  ?  It  just  spoils 
your  visit,  and  I  had  calculated  so  much  upon  it." 

"  The  fact  is,  Nellie,  I  am  a  little  sorry  myself.  I  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing  till  the  day  before  I  came,  when  we 
happened  to  meet,  and  I  found  out  that  he  had  never  seen 
much  of  New  York  and  longed  to  make  a  visit  here,  but  had 
no  friends  in  the  city,  and  could  not  afford  to  stay  at  a  hotel. 
So,  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  I  asked  him  to  come  with 
me,  and  he  accepted." 

"Accepted  right  off?"  asked  Nellie,  with  increasing  dis- 
like to  the  subject  of  the  conversation.  "  How  could  he 
know  that  your  mother  jrould  care  to  see  him  ?" 


ARE     THISTLES     STILL.  161 

"  To  have  objected  on  that  account  would  have  been  an 
ill  compliment  to  me.  I  invited  him,  and  politeness  required 
him  to  suppose  that  my  invitation  was  sufficient." 

"  Politeness !"  repeated  Nellie,  satirically.  "  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  knows  what  it  is." 

"  Take  care,  Nellie.  You  are  setting  yourself  against  this 
man.  Is  it  Christian-like  ?" 

"Oh,  Perry,  I  am  bad.  But  I  can  not  help  some  malice 
toward  him  for  interfering  with  my  pleasure.  You  will 
have  to  entertain  him,  and  show  him  the  city,  and  I  shall 
have  no  good  of  your  visit." 

"  A  very  selfish  reason  for  your  dislike,  Nellie." 

"  I  know  it,"  she  answered,  with  an  assenting  smile. 

"  He  is  a  poor  young  man,"  continued  Perry,  with  serious- 
ness. "  He  has  never  seen  much  of  the  world  ;  and  this  visit 
will  be  a  real  treat  to  him,  and,  perhaps,  some  advantage." 

"  Well,  Perry,"  she  retorted,  archly,  "  if  you  are  glad  he  is 
here,  I  will  try  to  be  glad  too." 

Neither  of  them  looked  very  glad ;  and  it  was  with  a  re- 
luctant air  that  Perry  put  on  his  over-coat  to  escort  Mr.  Stry- 
ker  about  the  city ;  and  with  a  tired  and  unhappy  air  that  he 
returned,  late  in  the  afternoon,  from  the  lionizing  expedition. 

That  evening,  Nellie  remained  in  her  father's  parlor.  The 
fear  of  Mr.  Stryker  kept  her  from  the  little  room.  Her  hope 
was  that  Perry  would  come  to  see  her  ;  they  could  have 
almost  as  nice  a  time  by  the  table,  behind  the  sofa,  where 
she  placed  two  chairs  on  purpose,  as  if  they  were  in  the  little 
parlor  with  Mr.  Seymour.  The  grown  people  were  so  inter- 
ested in  themselves,  and  the  room  so  large,  they  would  be 
quite  undisturbed. 

Perry  did  come,  but  not  unattended.     Mr.  Stryker  stalked 


162  GARDEN     THISTLES 

in  behind  him.  The  entree,  produced  an  evident  sensation, 
for  there  was  a  sensible  pause  in  the  murmuring  of  conversa- 
tion. The  introduction  of  Mr.  Stryker  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee 
was  accomplished,  and  the  conversation  murmured  and 
bustled  on  again  in  every  part  of  the  room,  and  save  for  an 
eye  stealthily  fixed,  or  a  humorous  smile  darted  toward  Mr. 
Stryker,  the  presence  of  that  gentleman  would  have  been  un- 
noticed beyond  the  immediate  circle  of  which  for  the  first 
few  minutes  he  was,  as  a  stranger — the  center  object  of 
polite  attention. 

Hardly  was  the  divinity  student  seated  in  the  chair, 
which  Mr.  Lee  designated  for  his  reception,  before  he  en- 
tered on  an  explanation  of  his  visit. 

"  I  felt,  sir,"  he  began,  addressing  Mr.  Lee,  "  that  I  could 
not  be  under  the  same  roof  with  you,  sir,  without  paying 
you  my  respects."  Mr.  Lee  was  surprised.  "  I  owe  you,  sir, 
a  debt  of  gratitude."  Mr.  Lee  grew  nervous.  "  You  may 
not  remember  me,  sir,  but  I  am  that  James  Stryker  whom 
you  have  kindly  assisted  in  procuring  an  education  in  view 
of  the  ministry  :" — Mr.  Lee  wished  he  had  not — "  and  though 
my  circumstances  are  straitened,  your  beneficence  has  en- 
abled me  to  persevere."  Mr.  Lee  was  indignant.  "  I  hope, 
sir,  while  doing  good  to  others,  you  do  not  neglect  your  own 
immortal  interests."  Mr.  Lee  was  angry.  "At  any  rate,  sir, 
I  shall  pray  for  you  and  never  forget  how  much  I  am  in- 
debted to  you."  Mr.  Lee  was  disgusted. 

Very  severely  cool  and  politely  emphatic  was  Mr.  Lee's 
answer.  "To  me,  sir,  you  are  not  in  the  least  indebted. 
I  give  to  Mr.  Poole  a  certain  sum  annually  for  benevolent 
objects  and  leave  the  whole  disposition  of  it  to  him.  To 
Kim,  sir,  to  Mr.  Poole,  you  are  wholly  indebted — wholly,  sir." 


ARE     THISTLES     STILL.  168 

"  Ah  ! — indeed !"  stammered  Mr.  Stryker,  abashed  not  by 
the  words,  but  the  perfect  and  frigid  politeness.  "  I  never 
knew  that,  sir,  I  thought  Mr.  Poole's  agency  was  wholly  at 
your  suggestion — at  least — " 

But  Mi1.  Lee  had  turned  away  to  talk  to  Perry  about  col- 
lege life,  and  soon  after  removed  himself  from  the  vicinity  of 
Mr.  Stryker  and  the  possibility  of  any  further  expressions  of 
his  gratitude.  Perry,  observing  his  friend  rather  awkwardly 
left  alone  in  his  perpendicularity  on  his  chair  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  soon  rose  to  go  ;  and  Mr.  Stryker  was  bowed 
out  of  a  parlor  he  never  entered  again. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Seymour's  little  parlor  was  as  full 
as  it  well  could  be.  Mr.  Sickles  was  talking  with  Perry,  and 
Nellie  was  listening.  Mrs.  Seymour  was  attempting  to  an- 
swer Mr.  Stryker's  questions  as  to  the  exact  number  of  mem- 
bers and  the  precise  amount  of  vital  religion  in  the  church 
she  attended.  Albert  was  in  elegant  repose,  neither  talking, 
nor  being  talked  to,  nor  taking  the  least  possible  interest  in 
those  who  were. 

A  servant  entered  bearing  a  coat.  "  For  Mr.  Albert,  from 
the  tailor." 

Mr.  Sickles  never  resisted  on  opportunity  of  tormenting 
Albert.  Did  Albert  never  resent  it  1  No.  Why  not  ?  Per- 
haps there  were  some  selfish  and  political  motives ;  perhaps, 
it  was  owing  to  Albert's  amiability.  For  he  was  amiable — 
this  one  virtue  had  flowed  from  his  mother  to  himself — only 
with  her  it  was  good-humor  and  heart-kindliness — with  him  it 
was  something  between  insensibility  and  indolence  and 
verged  toward  pusillanimity :  but  people  called  it  amiability, 
and  so  we  will. 

"An  over-coat?"  asked  Mr.  Sickles,  as  Albert  languidly 


164  GARDEN     THISTLES 

and  with  practised  carelessness,  threw  it  on  a  chair  a  little 
out  of  sight. 

"  Yes,"  said  Albert. 

"  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Mr.  Sickles.  "  I  suppose  it  is  the 
one  you  bought  last  fall.  Did  you  tear  it  that  it  required 
returning  to  the  tailor's  hands?  Bless  me!"  he  exclaimed, 
as  he  displayed  a  new  and  elegant  black  surtout,  got  up  in 
the  latest  fashion,  " how  exquisite,  how  gentlemanly"  with 
an  emphasis  on  the  last  word.  "  What  a  dash  you  will  cut 
in  Broadway.  They  will  take  you  for  a  millionaire.  'There 
goes  rich  Mr.  Seymour  !'  '  Rich,  did  you  say  ?'  '  Yes,  oh, 
very  rich  !  don't  you  see  his  coat  ?  rich  as  Croesus  ! ' " 

Albert  languidly  took  out  his  snuff-box.  It  was  a  recent 
fashion  to  use  that  article — very  modish — and,  when  Mr. 
Sickles  chose  to  be  satirical,  very  useful.  The  coat  in  the 
mean  time  passed  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Stryker,  and  was 
the  subject  of  a  conversation,  which,  if  intended  to  be  aside, 
was  too  distinctly  audible. 

"  Perry,  how  much  could  I  buy  an  overcoat  for  ?" 

"  That  would  depend  upon  the  quality." 

"  I  must  have  a  good  one,  of  course.  Strange  that  minis- 
ters are  required  to  dress  in  black  cloth,  the  most  expensive 
material;  and  that,  when  they  are  so  poorly  paid."  Mr. 
Stryker  was  not  yet  a  minister,  whatever  his  prospects  for 
tbe  ministry  were,  and  no  one  would  have  thought  it  unbe- 
coming in  him  to  dress  in  other  than  black  cloth,  even  if  it 
were  not  of  the  superfine  quality  which  he  did  wear. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  buy  an  overcoat  for  fifteen  dol- 
lars ?"  Mr.  Stryker  asked. 

"  Not  a  very  good  one,"  Perry  answered. 

"  I  could  get  one  for  that  price,  of  some  sort,  you  think  ?" 


--.  ARE     THISTLES     STILL.  lOO 

"  Undoubtedly." 

."  Cheap  clothes  are  dear  in  the  end  ;  they  do  not  last.  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  have  even  fifteen  dollars  to  spare,  either. 
I  think  I  must  go  without  it."  And  he  heaved  a  sigh  of  pity 
for  himself,  as  he  replaced  the  elegant  article  on  the  chair. 

Perry  was  in  distress  lest  Mr.  Sickles'  quick  ear  should 
have  caught  these  words.  Something  of  Mr.  Sickles'  eccen- 
tricities he  had  only  the  day  before  related  to  Mr.  Stryker  ; 
could  he  now  intend- —  ?  Perry  dared  not  look  at  Mr.  Sick- 
les, but  he  heard  the  rush  to  the  door,  and  the  familiar  tramp 
through  the  hall ;  he  knew  that  something  would  follow. 
To  Perry's  relief,  however,  Mr.  Sickles  went  up  stairs.  Per- 
haps he  had  not  overheard  the  conversation.  Perry's  anxi- 
ety now  was  to  get  his  friend  out  of  the  house  before  Mr. 
Sickles  should  come  down  again.  But  Mr^  Stryker  was  im- 
perturbably  slow.  They  had  not  reached  the  front  doSr, 
when  Mr.  Sickles'  tramp  and  voice  were  heard  together 
coming  down  stairs.  He  called  Perry.  They  had  to  stop. 

"  Perry,  you  are  goii%  down  town  with  Mr.  Stryker,  I 
think  you  said  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  pass  by  my  tailor's  ?" 

"No,  sir,"  answered  Perry,  very  distinctly. 

Mr.  Sickles  stared,  and  hesitated  an  instant,  but  it  was 
only  an-  instant. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you,  Perry,  but  if  you  will  step  in 
there,  and  hand  this  note  to  Mr.  Cutter,  and  wait  for  an  an- 
swer, you  will  oblige  me." 

Perry  burned  to  the  roots  of  his  hair  with  a  sense  of 
shame,  as  if  he  had  been  personally  asking  for  what  was 
given  to  "  his  friend."  But  there  was  no  help  for  it. 


166  OARI»EN    THISTLES. 

Mr.  Stryker  was  duly  surprised  when  Mr.  Cutter  re- 
quested the  privilege  of  talcing  his  measure,  and  very  grate- 
ful to  Mr.  Sickles  when  he  left  the  city  with  a  new  overcoat. 

"  Why  did  you,  Mr.  Sickles  ?" 

"  Because,  my  dear  Mrs.  Seymour,  your  sou  would  have 
hated  me  if  I  had  not.  There  is  no  end  to  the  expense  you 
and  your  family  and  your  friends  and  your  poor,  madam, 
put  me  to." 

But  Perry  took  good  care  never  to  ask  Mr.  Stryker  to 
spend  the  Christmas  holidays  with  him  again. 

The  rest  of  the  winter  was  quiet  enough  for  Nellie.  Mr. 
Sickles,  indeed,  afforded  her  the  ordinary  mixture  of  amuse- 
ment and  pleasure,  and  Mrs.  Seymour  was  kinder  than  ever. 
Sometimes  she  spent  a  day  at  brother  Robert's,  or  at  the 
Jays,  but  there  was  little  else  than  the  change  to  make  these 
days  pleasanter  than  those  at  home.  Sometimes  she  was  in- 
vited to  a  child's  party ;  but  it  was  an  aft'air  of  dress  and 
supper — there  were  few  children  i§  the  city.  She  was,  how- 
ever, becoming  interested  more  and  more  in  her  studies.  A 
real  respect  for  her  teacher,  and  untiring  fidelity  on  the  part 
of  that  teacher,  gave  her  lessons  a  zest  which  they  had  once 
wanted.  She  was  obliged,  too,  to  improve  the  winter  by 
taking  an  extra  number  of  music  lessons  which  the  country 
could  not  afford.  Much  time  was  spent  at  the  piano  ;  and 
such  was  her  improvement  that  even  Mr.  Sickles  would  lis- 
ten to  her  with  patience,  and,  sometimes,  with  pleasure ;  and 
he  was  very  critical  and  hard  to  please. 

But  Nellie,  for  all,  missed  Perry. 


XVIII. 

Jl0tom  »ll  Sorter,  aitir  a  ipto 

"  In  the  highest  realms  of  glory 
Spirits  trace,  before  the  throne, 
On  eternal  scrolls,  the  story 
Of  each  little  moment  flown ; 
Every  deed,  and  word,  and  thought, 
Through  the  whole  creation  wrought." 

JAMES  MONTGOMERY. 
• 

E  first  event  in  the  spring,  after  the  return  of  the  family 
to  Truro,  was  the  marriage  of  Charlotte  to  Mr.  Augustus 
Gaylord,  a  wealthy  Louisianian.  Older  by  ten  years  than 
herself,  with  less  cultivation  of  mind  and  manners,  and  no 
more  natural  ability,  with  a  plain  countenance  sallowed  by  a 
southern  climate,  and  marked  with  the  lines  of  southern  indo- 
lence and  self-indulgence,  Mr.  Gaylord  offered  to  his  young 
and  beautiful  bride  no  other  captivation  than  that  of  wealth, 
high-breeding,  generosity  and  a  devil-may-care  willingness 
that  every  one  should  do  as  they  pleased. 

Nellie  wondered  at  her  sister's  infatuation.  She  even  cried 
sisterly  tears  for  her  in  secret.  But  Nellie  was  young  in 
years  and  worldly  knowledge.  Charlotte  was  well  matched, 
so  far  as  tastes  and  sympathies  were  concerned,  and  if  her 
husband  added  no  heart-pleasures  to  her  life,  he  gave  her  all 
that  she  was  capable  of  enjoying — wealth,  luxury,  society, 
and  uncurbed  liberty  to  follow  her  own  inclinations. 

The  summer  was  passed  by  the  newly-married  pair  in  va- 


168  FLOWERS    WELL     SORTED, 

rious  places  of  fashionable  resort.  Emina  was  with  them. 
The  rest  of  the  family  remained  at  home. 

Gracie  Darling  was,  what  Emma  called  him,  "  a  love  oi 
a  man."  Slender,  graceful,  "pretty"  in  a  feminine  way, 
amiable,  with  sense  and  cultivation  enough  for  a  man  of  the 
world,  who  needed  to  be  a  gentleman,  and  did  not  need  to 
make  a  fortune.  Gracie  Darling  had  been  a  very  frequent 
visitor  at  the  Lees  for  a  twelvemonth,  and  was  one  of  the 
traveling  party  this  summer.  It  turned  out  just  as  people 
said  it  would  and  hoped  it  would,  Gracie  Darling  and  Emma 
Lee  fell  in  love,  were  engaged,  and,  in  the  month  of  October, 
just  before  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gay  lord  started  for  their  southern 
home,  were  married,  and  removed  to  their  own  house  in  the 
city  of  New  York. 

The  two  marriages  effected  a  complete  change  in  the  plans 
and  habits  of  the  family.  It  was  long  before  Nellie  spent 
another  winter  in^New  York.  Maria,  indisposed  at  all  times 
to  society,  was  rendered  unfit  for  it  by  increasing  delicacy  of 
health.  To  the  delight  of  all  parties,  therefore,  it  was  deter- 
mined that  Truro  should  be  the  home  it  used  to  be.  With 
the  keen  relish  of  a  long  intermitted  pleasure,  Mr.  Lee  ap- 
plied himself  with  assiduity  to  his  self-imposed  rural  tasks. 
Mrs.  Lee  was  really  excited  to  animation  by  this  unexpected 
escape  from  a  course  of  life  utterly  distasteful  to  her.  And 
Nellie  was  happier  than  .words  could  express. 

Years  of  uninterrupted  happiness  were  the  next  three  in 
Nellie's  life.  Except  a  few  weeks  of  gayety,  pleasant  for  va- 
riety's sake,  in  the  summer,  when  married  sisters  and  broth- 
era  and  city  friends  invaded  Truro,  and  troops  of  children 
filled  the  halls  of  the  old  house  and  the  avenues  of  the  spa- 


AND     A     NEW     SEEDLING.  169 

cious  grounds  with  fun  and  frolic,  life  at  Truro  flowed  se- 
renely bright,  like  a  stream  from  a  fountain  inclosed  in  mar- 
ble defenses  against  all  harsh  disturbances,  which  is  gilded 
by  the  sunbeam  and  silvered  by  the  moonlight,  and  played 
upon  by  the  rippling  breezes,  and  attended  by  the  fragrance 
of  flowers,  and  the  song  of  birds  to  its  unpredicted  destiny. 

Miss  Brown  relaxed,  more  and  more,  the  rigidity  of  the 
governess,  and  as  far  as  the  precise  formality  of  her  man- 
ner? would  allow,  assumed  the  character  of  a  friend,  and  be- 
came an  agreeable  member  of  the  family  circle.  Nellie  and 
Maria  grew  more  into  each  others  affections.  Maria,  though 
six  years  older,  learned  to  depend  on  Nellie's  efficiency  for 
help,  and  on  her  cheerfulness  for  enjoyment,  and  disused  the 
old  peevish  and  irritable  ways  in  which  she  had  once  treated 
the  impulsive  and  high-spirited  child.  To  Mr.  Lee,  Nellie 
became  more  of  a  companion  than  any  of  his  children  had 
been.  Her  joyous  spirit  attracted  him  to  her,  her  affectionate 
trustfulness  endeared  her  to  him,  while  her  quick  intelligence 
and  (thanks  to  Miss  Brown)  disciplined  culture,  enabled  her 
to  enter  into  his  studies,  appreciate  his  scientific  tastes,  and 
improve  by  his  knowledge.  He,  in  the  mean  time,  tasted 
the  new  pleasure,  in  this  his  youngest  child,  of  leading  out 
the  mind  to  inquiry,  and  witnessing  the  happy  fruits  of  his 
own  efforts  in  her  rapid  improvement.  To  this  he  was 
prompted  by  pure  selfishness.  Had  her  intellectual  vigor 
or  desire  to  please  been  less,  would  he  have  made  equal 
efforts  for  her  benefit?  No;  like  Charlotte,  Emma,  and 
Maria,  she  might  have  developed,  as  her  own  tastes  or  the 
molding  world  determined,  without  one  paternal  attempt 
to  fashion  the  plastic  material.  But  other  influences  had 
been  at  work.  Hetty  Hughes  with  Christian  'ove  and  pur- 

8 


170  FLOWERS    WELL    SORTED, 

pose  had  led  her  to  the  fountain  that  purifies  and  invigorates 
the  hidden  energies  of  the  life,  and  she  was  "  saved ;"  saved 
from  a  life  of  worldliness,  of  passion,  or  of  aimless  imbecility, 
not  by  Miss  Brown's  thorough  training  of  the  intellect,  not 
by  the  father's  wise  and  faithful  discipline,  but  by  the  grace 
of  Jesus,  by  "  the  washing  of  regeneration,  and  the  renewing 
of  the  Holy  Ghost."  This  had  prepared  her  to  profit  by 
Miss  Brown's  instructions,  and  to  be  the  delight  of  her 
father's  latter  years.  But  the  father  understood  it  not  so. 
He  selfishly  interested  himself  in  her,  because  she  rewarded 
his  pains;  and  then,  with  equal  selfishness,  he  took  to  him- 
self the  praise,  and  with  self-felicitations  contemplated  the 
fruits  of  excellence  in  her  character  which  had  sprung  from 
seeds  of  his  supposed  planting.  How  few  are  the  disinter- 
ested parents ! 

Nellie  became  necessary  to  her  father's  happiness.  When 
he  rode  over  his  estate,  she  cantered  on  her  own  horse  be- 
side him,  interested  in  his  agricultural  experiments,  listening 
with  patience  even  when  she  did  not  fully  comprehend  or 
enjoy  them,  to  all  the  dry  statistics  of  how  much  an  acre 
had  produced,  or  could  produce  under  one,  or  another  kind 
of  culture,  or  might  possibly  produce  under  some  new  and  yet 
untried  kind  of  culture.  She  was  often  with  him  on  clear 
nights  in  the  observatory,  studying  the  celestial  geography, 
seeking  out  invisible  comets,  or  watching  for  culminations  and 
oseultations,  which  pitiful  or  pitiless  clouds  might,  or  might  not 
break  away  in  the  nick  of  time  to  discover.  In  the  long 
winter  evenings  Mr.  Lee  did  not  disappear  in^o  his  library 
as  in  the  old  times,  but  he  was  the  reader  in  the  oak-room 
of  instructive  and  entertaining  books,  selected  with  reference 
to  Nellie's  capacities  (which  did  not  require  the  -weakest 


AND     A     NEW     SEEDLING.  171 

aliment).  There  were  animated  conversations  on  what  was 
read,  delightful  not  only  to  Mr.  Lee,  Miss  Brown  and  Nellie, 
but  quietly  enjoyed  by  Mrs.  Lee,  and  waking  up  sometimes 
even  the  dormant  life  of  poor  Maria. 

Those  were  pleasant  days,  too,  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Poole, 
on  occasions,  spent  at  Truro.  Mrs.  Poole  was  as  quiet  as 
Mrs.  Lee,  though  unlike  her  she  concealed  a  world  of  silent 
energy  under  an  unruffled  exterior — hers  was  a  Quaker-like 
quietness :  deep,  pervading,  self-controlled.  Mrs.  Lee's  was 
a  timid,  self-distrustful,  helpless  inactivity.  Neither  was  un- 
social or  cheerless  ;  there  was  always  a  pleasant,  affectionate 
answer  in  the  eye,  if  the  lips  were  still.  It  was  singular  that 
the  two  should  enjoy  each  other's  dumb  society.  But  they 
did.  Nellie  watched  them  once  for  an  hour,  as  they  sat 
together  in  the  bay-window  of  the  sunlighted  oak-room, 
while  her  father  and  Mr.  Poole  were  conversing  on  the  sofa. 
During  the  whole  time  neither  opened  her  lips.  Mrs.  Poole 
varied  the  exercise  of  knitting  only  by  an  occasional  glance 
out  of  the  window  over  at  the  conservatory.  Yet  any  one 
just  entering  the  room  and  observing  the  pleasant  smile  on 
her  handsome  face,  would  have  thought  she  had  just  made, 
or  was  just  about  to  make  some  sprightly  remark.  But  no, 
it  was  only  the  happy  radiation  of  unspoken  thoughts.  Mrs. 
Lee's  gentle  face  was. more  grave  in  its  absolute  repose. 
Once  in  a  while  it  looked  toward  her  tranquil  neighbor,  and 
then,  as  if  refreshed  with  the  assurance  that  she  was  happy 
and  contented,  returned  with  a  satisfied  expression  to  her 
sewing.  Quiet  people,  provided  they  are  let  alone  in  their 
quietness,  enjoy  life  far  more  than  their  talkative  neighbors 
suppose.  Do  not  try  to  entertain  them,  and  they  are  always 
entertained.  The  misery  is,  that  talkers  who  love  talking 


1*72  FLOWERS    WELL     SORTED. 

can  not  understand  how  any  one  can  be  happy  without  talk- 
ing, and  therefore  in  the  excess  of  benevolence,  make  them- 
selves uncomfortable  and  put  their  victims  to  torture  by  in- 
geniously striving  to  compel  conversation. 

Mr.  Poole  was  so  unobtrusive  that  his  people  knew  neither 
his  real  value,  nor  how  much  they  were  attached  to  him. 
To  like  Mr.  Poole  was  a  matter  of  course ;  there  was  nothing 
to  dislike  about  him :  but  they  did  not  know  how  much 
they  loved  him,  nor  that  they  did  not  love  him  half  enough. 
So  with  Nellie,  she  never  investigated  the  nature  of  her  feel- 
ings toward  her  pastor.  Had  he  been  like  most  men,  she 
would  have  been  obliged  to  ask  herself  whether  she  loved 
him  or  not,  much  or  little.  As  it  was,  she  never  thought 
about  it.  If  any  one  else  had  asked  her,  she  would  have 
said,  without  weighing  words,  "  Like  Mr.  Poole  ?  to  be  sure  I 
do  !"  But  Nellie's  judgment  was  ripening  now-a-days,  and 
she  began  to  appreciate  more  justly  Mr.  Poole's  sermons, 
and  through  them  the  man  himself.  From  a  little  girl  she 
had  been  an  attentive  listener  in  church,  but  never  knew  till 
now  how  much  benefit  she  derived  from  listening.  Every 
Sunday,  it  seemed  to  her,  she  obtained  some  new,  pleasant 
or  profitable  view  of  the  great  truths  of  the  Word. 

Nellie  observed,  too,  that  a  sober,  serious  thoughtfulness 
diffused  itself  through  the  family  circle,  after  listening  to  one 
of  the  pastor's  discourses.  No  one  thought  of  saying,  "  How 
eloquent  Mr.  Poole  was,  how  impressive,  how  great :"  but  the 
conversation  was  sure  to  turn  on  the  subject  of  the  sermon  ; 
and,  oftentimes,  Mr.  Lee  would  get  the  Bible  and  study  the 
text  in  its  connections  and  parallel  passages,  or,  in  the  even- 
ing, select  something  to  be  read  aloud  on  the  same  sub- 
ject. 


AND     A     NEW     SEEDLING.  1*73 

How  profitable  those  after-sermon  talks  were.  How  many 
good  things  they  fixed  in  the  memory,  which  else  had  been 
forgotten.  How  often  points  impressed  upon  one  mind  were 
brought  to  the  observation  of  all.  The  benefit  was  multi- 
plied according  to  the  number  of  hearers,  for  each  contribut- 
ed to  the  common  stock  some  particular  good  that  had  been 
individually  received. 

Maria  especially  derived  benefit  from  these  home  improve- 
ments of  the  sermon  in  church.  Negatively  and  listlessly 
good,  she  had  attended  the  services  of  the  sanctuary  all  her 
life  without  being  once  aroused  to  thorough  attention.  But 
now  a  new  interest  was  awakened.  She  found  that  there 
was  something  to  be  gained  by  listening.  The  slight  im- 
pression which  a  passing  thought  might  make,  was  revived 
and  deepened  when  the  same  thought  was  reiterated  at 
home.  In  the  familiar  talk  many  things  were  explained  or 
brought  out  in  a  manner  more  intelligible  to  one  of  her  slow 
apprehension.  Less  seldom  now  than  formerly,  did  she 
make  indisposition  a  plea  for  remaining  at  home  on  Sunday. 
She  was  always  ready  and  anxious  to  go,  even  when  it 
required  an  effort  which  might  lawfully  have  been  ex- 
cused. 

One  summer  evening  Nellie  found  Maria,  sitting  in  the 
window-seat  of  one  of  the  western  windows  of  the  library, 
intently  poring  over  a  book. 

"  Pursuing  knowledge  -under  difficulties  ?"  lightly  asked 
Nellie. 

Maria  turned  the  book  toward  Nellie,  with  a  sober  smile. 
It  was  the  Bible.     Nellie  put  her  arm  up  to  her  sister's 
pulled  her  head  down  and  kissed  her. 

"  Nellie,  it  is  hard." 


174  FLOWERS     WELL     SORTED. 

"  It  is  easy,  Maria." 

"  Every  thing  is  easy  for  you,  Nellie." 

"  The  Lord  Jesus  has  made  it  easy  for  all." 

Maria  slipped  down  from  the  high  window-seat,  and  with 
entwined  arms  they  watched  the  last  streaks  of  fading  light. 
Not  another  word  was  spoken.  Maria  was  too  incommuni- 
cative, and  Nellie  too  young  to  venture  a  remark,  and  not 
used  to  this  new  and  sisterly  confidence.  But  they  under- 
stood each  other  now.  A  new  tie  was  formed.  With  the 
light  that  seemed  retreating  from  earth  to  Heaven  their  souls 
set  o  at  together  then  for  the  Heavenly  glory. 


XIX. 

ustantag:  Sunlight  nit 


"  I  bear  Him  saying  to  me,  '  Come  up  hither.' " — Last  words  o/SAinnEL  RTTTH- 
KEFORD. 

"  And  now  I  leave  off  to  speak  any  more  to  creatures,  and  begin  my  inter- 
course with  God,  which  shall  never  be  broken  off." — Last  words  ofRvGn  MACKAIL. 


rPHE  more  Helen  Lee  learned  to  value  Mr.  Poole's  sermons, 
-*-  the  less  pleased  was  she  to  have  any  other  minister  to  oc- 
cupy his  place  in  the  pulpit.  With  no  satisfaction,  therefore, 
did  she  discover,  one  Sunday,  that  the  pulpit  had  two  occu- 
pants ;  and  when  a  tall,  gaunt  form,  elevated  itself  to  its  full 
height,  and  she  recognized  her  quondam  Sunday-school 
mate,  now  the  Reverend  James  Stryker,  the  first  feeling  of  dis- 
appointment grew  into  a  sense  of  general  uucomfortableness. 
She  could  not  have  explained  her  sensations,  could  have 
given  no  good  reason  why  she  should  indulge  them ;  but 
she  felt  very  unwilling  to  hear  that  man  preneh  ;  and  the  in- 
voluntary wish  rose  in  her  heart  that  she  had  staid  at  home 
with  Maria,  instead  of  Miss  Brown.  Harry  happened  to  be 
there  that  day.  She  hoped  he  would  not  recognize  Mr. 
Stryker,  but  she  soon  became  aware  that  Harry,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  pew,  was  trying  every  available  means  to  attract 
her  attention.  She  would  notice  nom  of  his*  telegraphing 
expedients,  and  Harry  had  to  content  himself  with  whisper- 


176  SPIRIT r  A  L   HUSBANDRY: 

ing  to  his  father,  that  "  that  was  Jim  Stryker,  the  shoe- 
maker's son."  Mr.  Lee  knew  it  already,  and  was  wishing 
either  himself  or  the  preacher  elsewhere. 

There  was  a  nervous  rustling  throughout  the  congregation. 
An  audience  painfully  sympathizes  with  the  presumable  diffi- 
dence of  a  debutant,  and  in  the  present  instance,  all  were 
less  at  their  ease  than  the  speaker.  Whether  it  were  owing 
to  unimpressibility,  or  self-confidence,  or  engagedness  in  his 
work,  no  trace  of  embarrassment  was  manifested  by  Mr. 
StryLer,  in  voice,  countenance,  or  gesture.  Neither  was 
there  an  air  of  conceit,  or  assumption  about  him ;  only  an 
imperturbable  assurance  and  self-possession,  such  as  one 
might  have  that  had  preached  a  life-time. 

The  subject  of  Mr.  Stryker's  sermon  was,  "  The  exceeding 
sinfulness  of  sin."  His  delivery,  though  ungraceful  always, 
ludicrously  awkward  sometimes,  was  energetic  and  "  tell- 
ing." The  discourse  itself  was  able,  pungent  and  effective ; 
the  argument,  sound ;  the  application,  powerful ;  the  gen- 
eral effect,  what  is  called  by  a  certain  class  of  preachers, 
"  alarming."  The  congregation  lost  the  sense  of  sympathy, 
in  listening  interest ;  even  Harry  Lee  w.is  subdued  into  re- 
luctant attention,  and  Mr.  Lee,  impressed  with  the  conviction 
of  the  preacher's  ability,  was  among  the  first  in  the  throng 
of  friends  that  crowded  around  the  pulpit  after  the  services 
were  ended,  to  take  the  young  licentiate  by  the  hand. 

The  afternoon  sermon  by  Mr.  Poole  himself,  was  in  strik- 
ing contrast  with  the  morning's.  It  was  like  the  cool,  fra- 
grant breeze,  after  a  day  of  blasting  heat.  It  was  drawing 
water  with  joy  from  the  wells  of  salvation,  after  the  thirst 
and  terVors  of  the  wilderness  of  Horeb.  The  text  was,  "  The 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ  His  Son  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 


SUNLIGHT     AND     SHOWERS.  177 

Though  the  delivery  was  less  impressive,  it  was  no  less  able 
in  substance,  and  more  finished  in  style ;  but  its  characteris- 
tic qualities  were  those,  in  respect  to  which  the  morning's 
sermon  was  as  sterile  as  the  sands  of  Libya,  tenderness,  sym- 
pathy, persuasiveness,  faith  in  the  Gospel,  love  to  Christ. 
Did  the  good  people  of  Cedarville  know  its  excellencies  ? 
Perhaps  not.  Many  of  the  farmers'  families,  who  seldom  at- 
tended the  afternoon  services,  owing  to  the  distance  of  their 
dwellings  from  the  church,  were  there  'this  afternoon,  and 
were  manifestly  disappointed  that  Mr.  Poole  preached  in- 
stead of  the  young  Boanerges ;  and  "  young"  Mr.  Graves,  who 
nearly  crushed  Helen's  hand  in  the  morning,  as  he  emphas- 
ized the  words,  "  What  a  solemn  sermon  !"  was  guilty  of  sus- 
picious symptoms  of  drowsiness  in  the  afternoon. 

The  next  Sunday  morning  the  Rev.  James  Stryker  occu- 
pied the  pulpit  again.  His  text  was,  "  For  whosoever  shall 
keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  offend  in  one  point,  he  is  guilty 
of  all."  It  was  a  fearful  sermon  for  sensitive  consciences.  It 
riveted  unwavering  attention.  There  was  too  much  sledge- 
hammer force  in  it  to  suffer  drowsiness  or  indifference.  As 
the  congregation  left  the  house,  some  faces  looked  solemn, 
and  uneasy  ;  others  seemed  sad,  distressed,  unhappy,  anx- 
ious, such  were  Hetty  Hughes'  and  Helen  Lee's.  Mr.  Graves' 
was  ecstatic.  His  homely  face  was  illuminated  with  a  smile 
that  played  on  the  borders  of  a  laugh,  and,  as  he  passed 
down  the  aisle,  he  exclaimed  to  one  and  another,  "What  an 
awakening  discourse  !"  "  What  a  remarkable  young  man  !" 
"  How  awfully  solemn !"  But  the  countenances  of  most 
wore  only  a  pleased,  surprised  expression.  They  had  been 
kept  awake.  They  found  that  there  was  something  in 
preaching  after  all.  They  had  been  entertained  and  aston- 

8* 


178  SPIRITUAL   HUSBANDRY: 

ishetl,  much  as  they  would  have  been  if  a  successive  volley 
of  musketry  had  been  discharged  from  the  pulpit,  which  in- 
deed was,  in  a  figure,  the  truth. 

Mr.  Stryker  concluded  the  morning  services  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  he  should,  God  willing,  continue  the  sub- 
ject in  the  afternoon.  Never  was  the  Cedarville  church  so 
full  at  an  afternoon  service  before.  Not  a  family,  however 
remote  their  residence  from  the  church,  was  absent :  not  a 
seat  was  vacant— except  the  pew  of  James  Stryker,  Sr., 
"fashionable  boot  and  shoemaker" — that  was  occupied  in  sol- 
itary dignity  by  the  Rev.  James  Stryker  himself ;  that  he  sat 
there,  was  an  indubitable  fact,  an  erect  immovable  fact,  even 
to  the  fingers  encased  in  black  silk  gloves ;  and  there  he  con- 
tinued to  sit  throughout  the  services. 

Mr.  Poole  was  in  the  pulpit,  and  rose  to  preach  with  an 
air  of  modest  embarrassment.  He  said  "  he  feared  he  was 
the  cause  of  great  disappointment.  The  notice  given  by  the 
young  brother  in  the  morning  had  taken  him  entirely  by 
surprise.  Had  he  (the  young  brother)  been  more  expe- 
rienced, he  would  not  have  ventured  the  notice  without  con- 
sulting the  pastor  first.  The  meeting  of  an  ecclesiastical  body 
would  require  his  absence  from  the  village  on  the  next  Sun- 
day, and  his  young  friend  should  supply  the  pulpit  both 
morning  and  afternoon.  "  I  am  cot,"  he  continued,  "  alto- 
gether sorry  for  this  occurrence.  I  am  old  and  can  not 
preach  the  Gospel  to  you,  my  dear  people,  much  longer. 
And  now  that  I  shall  not  preach  to  you  again  before  a  fort- 
night, I  rejoice  in  the  privilege  of  addressing  so  many  of  you 
this  afternoon." 

Either  the  morning's  sermon  had  effectually  roused  the 
minds  of  the  people,  or  the  singular  preface  gave  zest  and 


SUNLIGHT     AND     SHOWERS.  1*79 

animation  to  the  discourse,  or  else  Mr.  Poole  excelled  him- 
self; for  never  had  the  people  of  Cedarville  listened  so  at- 
tentively to  Mr.  Poole's  preaching,  and  never  had  Mr.  Poole's 
preaching  so  nearly  approached  eloquence  in  the  estimation 
of  the  people  of  Cedarville.  The  theme  was  "  Christ  our 
righteousness."  Every  peculiar  doctrine,  every  distinctive 
feature  of  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God,  was  in 
that  sermon,  without  crowding  of  ideas,  or  confusion  of 
thought ;  every  word  was  clear,  plain  and  intelligible  ;  every 
sentence  full,  pointed  and  impressive.  The  mystical  union 
of  believers  with  Christ ;  their  justification,  adoption  and 
sanctification  in  Christ ;  and  their  future  felicity  and  glory 
in  and  with  .Christ  their  head,  were  the  principal  topics. 
Then  he  reminded  them  that  this  union  was  exhibited  to 
faith  in  baptism  and  in  the  sacrament  of  Christ's  body  and 
blood  :  affectionately  he  dwelt  on  the  fact  that  many  of  that 
flock,  in  their  infancy,  were  laid  in  his  arms,  and  with  his 
hands,  with  "pure  water"  and  in  the  name  of  the  covenanting 
God,  were  visibly  received  into  the  body  of  Christ;  and 
many,  from  his  hands,  had  received  the  bread  of  communion 
and  the  cup  of  blessing.  He  spoke  of  living  in  Christ  and 
of  dying  in  Christ ;  of  the  joy  of  spirits  with  Christ  in  Par- 
adise and  the  peaceful  resting  of  their  bodies  which  are  "  still 
united  to  Christ"  in  their  graves ;  and,  finally,  of  the  resur- 
rection in  Christ  at  the  last  day  and  the  triumph  in  Christ 
forever,  when  believers  shall  be  made  "  perfectly  blessed  in 
the  full  enjoyment  of  God  to  all  eternity."  While  he  spoke, 
the  history  of  his  long  pastoral  care  revived,  facts  and  inci- 
dents flowed  in  upon  his  memory,  anil  many  personal  allu- 
sions to  those  who  had  departed  in  the  faith,  recalled  the 
familiar  forms  of  holy  men  and  women — the  aged  and  the 


180  SPIRITUAL   HUSBANDRY: 

young — who  once  worshiped  there  and  now  lay  in  sleep 
under  the  shadow  of  the  old  church  walls.  And  oh  !  how 
earnestly  did  he  exhort,  how  persuasively  did  he  invite,  how 
hopefully  did  he  encourage  all  his  dear  flock  to  seek  with 
them  who  had  gone  before — Christ  the  sinners'  righteous- 
ness to  live,  to  die,  to  rejoice,  to  rise  again  and  to  triumph 
in  Christ  forever  and  ever. 

Silent  as  the  melting  snow  was  the  departure  of  the  peo- 
ple from  the  house  of  God.  No  word  was  spoken.  No 
salutations  exchanged.  A  strain  of  heavenly  music  had  fallen 
on  their  cars — and,  still  entranced,  the  dullest  hearts  and 
minds  were  vibrating  with  the  sacred  harmonies.  A  still, 
small  voice  had  spoken — and  all — subdued,  aw.ed,  thrilled — 
felt  as  the  prophet  felt,  when  he  wrapped  his  face  in  his  gar- 
ment and  stood  silent,  thoughtful  and  overpowered  in  the 
presence  of  his  God. 

Silently  the  family  of  Truro  returned  to  their  home. 
Silently  they  separated  to  their  own  apartments.  The  in- 
fluence was  too  deep  for  speech.  But  angels  heard  the 
voice  of  prayer  as  it  rose,  in  weak  and  tearful  accents,  from 
the  chamber  where  Maria  knelt,  "Lord,  I  believe,  help 
Thou  my  unbelief," — and  in  manly  and  measured  words 
from  the  library,  where  the  father,  on  knees  that  had  seldom 
bent  in  sacred  devotion,  asked  for  light,  strength,  forgive- 
ness and  salvation;  as  it  went  up  from  the  mother's  gentle 
heart  in  mute  pleadings  for  a  husband  and  for  children  ;  and 
as  it  ascended  from  Nellie's  closet,  where  hope  smiled  and 
Christ  our  righteousness  appeared  in  His  transfigured  glory — 
and,  like  the  sainted  Rutherford,  the  child's  heart  "sent  word 
to  the  Beloved,  that  she  loved  to  love  Him." 


SUNLIGHT     AND     SHOWERS.  181 

That  night  the  pastor  of  Cedarville,  '  having  served  his 
own  generation,  by  the  will  of  God,  fell  on  sleep,  and  was 
gathered  to  the  fathers.' 

He  returned  to  the  parsonage,  after  the  efforts  of  the  after- 
noon, in  a  glow  of  excitement.  He  talked  much  with  his 
wife  of  his  pastoral  charge — of  his  labors,  his  hopes,  his  fears 
— he  mentioned  many  of  his  people  by  name.  Twice,  in  the 
course  of  the  evening,  they  knelt  together  in  prayer,  and  he 
poured  out  his  heart's  desire  for  the  flock  of  his  care,  in  such 
particular  and  urgent  entreaties  as  she  had  never  heard. 
Even  after  they  retired  at  night  he  continued  to  talk  of 
those  who  had  been  and  were  not,  of  those  still  living — and 
of  the  reunions  in  bliss  and  glory  which  were  to  be.  At 
last  he  was  silent,  and  she  fell  asleep.  How  long  she  slept, 
or  what  awakened  her,  she  knew  not.  But  she  was  at  once 
aware,  as  if  he  or  some  other  had  told  her,  that  he  was 
dying.  She  spoke  to  him ;  he  answered  not.  She  raised 
his  head  ;  it  weighed  heavily  in  her  hands.  She  brought  a 
light ;  the  eyes  were  closed,  a  smile  was  on  his  lips ;  and 
while  she  looked,  hoping  it  was  sleep,  with  one  long  sigh 
the  breath  departed. 

There  were  genuine  tears  of  affectionate  sorrow  at  Truro. 
They  would  have  been  floods  could  the  weepers  have  known 
— as  perhaps  some  of  them  did  afterward,  how  great  the  loss 
was  to  themselves. 

This  was  Helen  Lee's  first  sorrow.  She  wept  as  the  most 
loving  daughter  of  the  flock  for  the  most  beloved  of  pastors. 
But  there  is  no  bitterness,  no  heart-rending  in  such  grief; 
only  a  gentle  dissolving  of  the  heart  into  a  soft  and  pleasing 
tenderness.  The  elasticity  of  youthful  and  unbroken  spirits 
speedily  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  tears  and  left  her 


182  SPRITUAL   HUSBANDRY: 

in  a  quiet  sadness,  with  the  gleamings  of  heavenly  hope 
shining  through  the  overshadowing  clouds. 

In  this  frame  of  mind  she  wandered  out  in  the  afternoon 
to  seek  refreshment  in  the  still  solitude  of  the  mountain  for- 
ests. She  climbed  up  the  hill-sides  till  she  came  to  the 
spring  from  which  the  rivulet  flowed  down,  down,  down,  by 
the  tannery,  the  village,  the  grist-mill,  to  the  valley  far 
below  and  the  river  in  which  its  life  was  swallowed  up. 
She  sat  down  by  the  spring,  she  followed  the  rivulet's  course 
with  her  eye,  and  she  meditated  on  that  of  which  the  run- 
ning brook  is  the  frequent  emblem — Life.  Smiling  and 
placid  in  infancy,  like  the  spring,  disturbed  only  by  its  own 
bubblings  ;  cheery  and  frolicsome  in  childhood,  like  the  leap- 
ing, singing  rivulet ;  flowing  with  stronger  tide,  and  becom- 
ing addicted  to  some  practical  purpose,  study  or  work,  in 
youth,  as  when  the  brook  tarried  awhile  under  the  useful 
shade  of  the  tannery  willows;  growing  broad,  calm  and 
deep  on  the  eve  of  life's  cares,  as  the  brook  widened  into  the 
pond ;  rushing  earnestly  onward,  buffeted  and  buffeting,  as 
the  waters  poured  over  the  dam,  whirled  the  mill-wheel,  and 
foamed  away  in  the  turmoil  below  ;  passing  now  quietly 
through  the  experience  of  usefulness,  enjoyment,  or  suffering, 
after  the  first  conflict  with  the  world,  as  the  stream  wander- 
ed softly  through  the  valley ;  and  swallowed  up  silently  at 
last  in  the  grave,  as  the  stream  in  the  river. 

"  Ob,  silvery  streamlet  of  the  fields, 

That  flowest  full  and  free ! 
For  thee  the  rains  of  spring  return, 

The  summer  dews  for  thee ; 
And  when  thy  latest  blossoms  die 

In  autumn's  chilly  showers, 
The  winter  fountains  gush  for  thee, 

Till  May  brings  back  the  flowers. 


SUNLIGHT     AND     SHOWERS.  183 

"  Oh,  stream  of  Life !  the  violet  springs 

But  once  beside  thy  bed; 
But  one  brief  summer,  on  thy  path, 

The  dews  of  heaven  are  shed : 
Thy  parent  fountains  shrink  away, 

And  close  their  crystal  veins, 
And  where  thy  glittering  current  flowed, 

The  dust  alone  remains." 

There  was  a  step  behind  her.  She  turned ;  it  was  Perry 
Seymour.  He  did  not  come  often  to  Truro,  and  he  was 
there  now  only  for  the  night.  Impatient  of  her  absence,  he 
had  sought  and  found  her,  happily,  at  one  of  their  old  and 
favorite  haunts.  The  first  beaming  smiles  passed  quickly 
away,  for  she  had  to  tell,  and  he  to  learn,  the  sad  story  that 
filled  Cedarville  with  sorrow.  Tears  were  flowing  from  both 
their  eyes  when  she  ended.  And  when  they  ceased  to  flow, 
they  stood  long  in  silent  thought,  gazing  down  upon  the 
village,  where  the  shepherd  had  been  taken  from  the  flock. 
The  clouds  vailed  the  sky  and  the  landscape  wore  a  pensive 
air.  The. church  where  he  had  preached  lay  in  shadow,  and 
the  shadow  deepened  among  the  trees  that  shrouded  the 
melancholy  parsonage.  No  sound  of  labor  was  heard.  The 
grief  of  the  flock  for  the  loss  of  the  shepherd  was  expressed 
in  a  Sabbath  silence. 

"  Perry,  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  said  Helen,  at  last. 

"  Were  you,  Nellie ;"  a  pleased  smile  lighted  up  his  face. 

"  Yes,  I  was  thinking  my  hopes  for  you." 

"  What  were  they  ?     Think  them  again  aloud." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not  like  them.  They  were  for  no  great 
and  grand  things  ;  no  splendid  achievements,  no,  not  even  for 
u  career  of  conspicuous  glory  in  the  Church  of  Christ" 

"  What  were  they  ?"  he  asked  again. 


184  SPIRITUAL    HUSBANDRY. 

"  That  you  might  lead  just  such  a  life  of  holy  simplicity, 
unobtrusive  fidelity,  and  real,  lasting,  blessed  usefulness,  as 
dear  Mr.  Poole  has  ended  now." 

"  Would  such  a  life  content  you,  Nellie  ?  you  who  are  so 
full  of  mirth  and  energy  ?"  he  asked. 

."  Joy  and  activity  might  be  in  it,  too,"  she  answered. 

"And  if  such  a  life  were  mine,  would  you  be  willing  to 
share  it  with  me  ?"  he  asked,  earnestly. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  she  answered,  quickly  and  warmly.  But  it 
was  as  a  loving  sister  would  answer,  and  the  bright  glow  on 
his  cheek  and  the  gleam  in  his  eye  were  answered  only  by 
the  simple,  childlike  interest  and  pride  and  confidence  in 
him  that  she  had  ever  felt  and  always  manifested. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  Nellie,  as  a  rumbling  like  thun- 
der was  heard  over  the  mountain  top.  They  turned  and 
looked,  a  black  cloud  was  slowly  rolling  over  their  heads. 
"  Quick,  or  we  shall  be  drenched,"  cried  Perry,  and  away 
they  flew,  hand  in  hand,  down  the  mountain  to  the  safe  pro- 
tection of  the  house. 

Was  that  dark  cloud  a  premonition  of  evil  rolling  heavily 
onward,  to  envelop  those  young  hearts  in  its.  gloom  ?  If  so, 
may  the  emblem  hold  true ;  for  they  reached  the  house  in 
safety  before  the  shower  descended :  they  were  only  threat- 
ened, not  hurt. 


XX. 

0f  f  ta0n  make  %  ffcistl*  pn$f. 


"We  can  not  keep 

A  breed  of  reasoners  like  a  flock  of  sheep ; 
For  they,  so  far  from  following  as  we  lead, 
Make  that  a  cause  why  they  will  not  proceed. 
Man  will  not  follow  where  a  rule  is  shown, 
But  loves  to  take  a  method  of  his  own ; 
Explain  the  way  with  all  your  care  and  skill, 
This  will  he  quit,  if  hut  to  prove  he  will." 

GEORGE  CRABBE. 


nnHE  Cedarville  people  gradually  recovered  from  the  shock 
-*•  of  Mr.  Poole's  sudden  death.  There  was  little  to  re- 
mind them  of  it  during  the  week,  and  on  Sundays  their 
thoughts  were  distracted  between  rival  candidates  for  the 
vacant  pastorship.  Mrs.  Poole's  quiet  face  no  longer  appeal- 
ed to  their  sympathy,  for  she  had  forsaken  the  village  to  seek 
once  more  the  home  of  her  earlier  widowhood.  "  He  was  an  old 
mau ;"  "  his  time  had  come  ;"  "  he  is  far  better  off;"  "  he  could 
not  have  lived  always  ;"  were  the  consolatory  aphorisms  with 
which  they  dismissed  the  old  pastor  from  their  minds,  and 
gave  undivided  attention  to  the  choice  of  a  new  one. 

"  Young  Mr.  Graves"  was  very  busy.  There  was  not  a 
house  in  the  village  and  few  farm-houses  in  the  parish,  at 
which  he  did  not  happen  to  call.  Wherever  he  went,  the 
praises  of  the  Rev.  James  Stryker  were  sounded.  "  He  was 
just  the  minister  that  Cedarville  church  needed — an  extra- 


186  THE     TREES     OF     LEBANON 

ordinary  young  man — so  rousing,  so  zealous,  so  devoted — 
theological  professors  and  Doctors  of  Divinity  spoke  highly 
of  him — and  he  belonged  to  Cedarville,  a  native-born,  who 
knew  us  all,  was  used  to  our  ways  and  understood  our 
wants."  Thus  Mr.  Graves  inoculated  the  congregation  with 
his  own  sentiments.  They  spread  by  contagion  and  infec- 
tion. That  Mr.  Stryker  should  be  called,  grew  into  a  popu- 
lar desire,  and  then  assumed  the  form  of  fixed  determination. 
He  should  be. 

After  awhile  it  began  to  be  rumored  that  Mr.  Lee  was  not 
in  favor  of  Mr.  Stryker.  The  more  timid  now  decided 
against  Mr.  Stryker,  and  all  hesitated.  "  It  would  not  do, 
of  course,"  they  said,  "  to  elect  any  one  whom  Mr.  Lee  op- 
posed." But  Mr.  Amos  Graves  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 
"  Would  they  be  governed  by  Mr.  Lee  ?  was  the  church  to 
be  subject  to  aristocratic  rule  ?  who  should  be  gratified — the 
whole  congregation  without  Mr.  Lee,  or  Mr.  Lee  in  spite  of 
the  whole  congregation  ?"  These  arguments  were  effectual. 
The  timid  were  driven  back  to  the  ranks,  and  some  who 
had  never  been  favorable  to  Mr.  Stryker,  as  Steve  Ball,  black- 
smith, and  Tim  Whittaker,  tavern-keeper,  now,  like  good 
democrats,  espoused  his  cause,  to  prove  to  the  world  that 
they  would  not  be  governed  by  one  man,  if  he  was  a  rich 
man.  Let  Mr.  Lee  go  off,  if  he  chose,  they  could  support  a 
minister  without  his  help. 

A  meeting  of  the  congregation  was  duly  called  and  or- 
ganized, with  a  neighboring  minister  for  moderator.  The 
name  of  the  Rev.  James  Stryker  was  put  in  nomination. 

Mr.  Lee  rose  and  in  a  mild,  courteous  speech  begged  that 
the  matter  should  not  be  urged  at  present,  as  some  were  not 
perfectly  satisfied. 


MAKE     THE     THISTLE     KINO.  187 

Mr.  Graves  responded  in  a  loud  declamation,  in  which  he 
had  much  to  say  about  spiritual  religion,  the  coldness  of  the 
church,  the  necessity  of  a  revival,  and  the  piety  and  talents 
of  Mr.  Stryker,  from  which  subject  he  launched  out  into  an 
earnest  exhortation  to  sinners,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
moderator  called  him  to  order. 

George  Hughes  urged,  in  a  few  sensible  remarks,  the 
course  which  Mr.  Lee  had  proposed. 

Steve  Ball,  who  was  opposed  to  George  in  politics,  fired  up 
as  hotly  as  ever  his  forge  burned,  and  bellowed  so  lustily 
about  the  one  man  power,  the  rights  of  the  majority,  and 
the  silk-stocking  gentry  who  would  rule  the  church  as 
well  as  the  country,  that  the  moderator  had  to  call  him  to 
order. 

Dr.  Lowe  made  a  feeble  speech,  neither  on  one  side  nor 
the  other :  the  Doctor  was  a  friend  to  every  body  and 
hoped  every  body  would  be  pleased — with  him  at  least. 

Wm.  Hayes,  the  son  of  the  old  deacon  (the  good  deacon 
had  slumbered  some  years  in  the  grave-yard),  moved  the  in- 
definite postponement  of  the  whole  subject 

The  motion  was  indignantly  rejected.  The  vote  was 
called  for  and  taken.  Mr.  Lee,  George  Hughes  and  William 
Hayes  alone  voted  in  the  negative.  Dr.  Lowe  and  Mr. 
Slater  voted  not  at  all.  The  rest  were  strongly  in  the  affirm- 
ative: 

Mr.  Lee  now  rose  again,  and,  after  a  conciliatory  and 
graceful  speech,  in  which  he  complimented  the  abilities  of 
Mr.  Stryker  and  disavowed  any  wish  to  oppose  the  majority, 
however  he  might  personally  have  preferred  some  other  suc- 
cessor to  Mr.  Poole — he  moved  that  Mr.  Stryker  be  unan- 
imously declared  their  pastor  elect;  which  resolution  was 


188  THE     TREES     OF     LEBANON 

unanimously  carried,  Dr.  Lowe's  voice  being  distinctly  audi- 
ble in  the  affirmative.  And  thus  Jim  Stryker,  the  rude, 
rough  boy,  who  frightened  Nellie  Lee  more  than  his  ugly 
dog  did,  became  in  due  course  of  time  the  Rev.  James  Stry- 
ker pastor  of  Cedarville  church,  of  which  Miss  Helen  Lee 
was  a  member — but  somehow,  he  never  ceased  to  frighten 
poor  Nellie ! 

Mr.  Stryker's  settlement  was  speedily  followed  by  his  mar- 
riage to  the  schoolmistress  of  a  neighboring  village.  Some 
said  she  had  a  few  years  the  start  of  him  in  life.  That, 
however,  was  attended  with  solid  advantages,  treasured  up 
by  shrewdness,  economy  and  industry,  against  a  rainy  day, 
or  a  wedding-day,  as  the  case  might  be. 

Very  different  was  Mrs.  Stryker  from  her  meek  and  gentle 
predecessor.  Young  Mr.  Graves  was  delighted  with  her,  and 
declared  that  she  was  made  for  a  minister's  wife.  Possibly 
some  of  the  sick  and  suffering  might  miss  the  soft  step,  quick 
hand,  and  wholesome  smile  of  dear  Mrs.  Poole ;  but  none 
could  complain  now  that  the  pastor's  wife  was  not  active  in 
spiritual  matters.  She  was  all  activity.  Her  energy  first 
exerted  itself  in  tearing  up  the  shrubbery  and  lopping  off"  the 
lower  limbs  of  the  trees  that  shut  out  the  view  of  the  street 
from  Bedminster  parsonage.  She  made  such  an  entire  clear- 
ance of  the  impertinent  foliage  that  the  eye  could  sweep  the 
street,  up  and  down,  for  half  a  mile,  from  every  window  and 
door  on  the  front  or  sides  of  the  house.  The  mutilated  trees 
looked  like  poor  imitations  of  palms,  or  like  a  certain 

"  Nid,  nid  noddy,  all  head  and  no  body." 
Mrs.  Stryker  wished  to  see  what  was  going  on  in  the  world, 


MAKE     THE     THISTLE     KING.  189 

and  would  have  moved  the  house  itself  and  planted  it  plump 
on  the  road-side,  if  she  could. 

Having  thus  transformed  the  Bedminster  parsonage  into  a 
becoming  residence  for  the  pastor  who  occupied  it  (houses 
will  grow  into  the  resemblance  of  their  occupants),  Mrs. 
Stryker  directed  her  attention  to  the  church.  The  pretty, 
antique,  round  pulpit,  redolent  with  the  fragrant  memo- 
ries of  Mr.  Poole's  sermons,  was  displaced  by  a  heavy, 
square,  over-huge  stage,  with  a  high  front,  decorated  with 
Grecian  moldings,  though  the  church  was,  if  pointed  win- 
dows and  the  absence  of  ornament  could  make  it  so,  a 
simple  Gothic.  She  attempted  to  effect  the  removal  of  the 
venerable  steeple,  and  the  erection  in  its  stead  of  a  Grecian 
portico,  surmounted  by  a  tower.  But  this  improvement,  the 
united  energies  of  Mr.  Lee  and  George  Hughes  successfully 
defeated,  and  Mrs.  Stryker,  chagrined,  withdrew  her  atten- 
tion from  the  church,  before  she  had  destroyed  the  poplars, 
and  removed  the  curve  from  the  stone  walls,  as  she  origin- 
ally contemplated. 

In  more  strictly  spiritual  matters  Mrs.  Stryker  was  no  less 
indefatigable.  At  her  suggestion  a  new  office  was  appointed 
in  the  Sunday-school,  that  of  female  superintendent ;  and 
she,  of  course,  was  elected  to  fill  it.  She  not  only  accepted 
the  position  of  first  directress  in  the  ladies'  sewing  circle,  but 
discharged  its  duties  over  the  heads  of  the  other  directresses, 
in  much  the  same  way  as  Napoleon  did  the  First  Consulship. 
She  established  a  female  prayer-meeting.  She  became  in 
every  way  she  could  possibly  think  of,  what  young  Mr. 
Graves  predicted  she  would  be,  "  a  most  useful  woman." 

Mrs.  Stryker  was  very  popular,  too.  She  was  so  friendly, 
free,  and  sociable ;  she  visited  so  much,  and  would  come  un- 


190  THE     TREES     OF     LEBANON 

invited,  especially  about  the  time  of  yeai  when  apples  were 
gathered,  or  cheese  presses  at  work,  or  at  killing  time :  and 
she  praised  things  so — this  butter  was  excellent,  that  cheese 
exactly  the  kind  she  wanted,  those  pippins,  she  must  ask  Mr. 
Stryker  to  get  some  exactly  like  them,  she  was  uncommonly 
fond  of  spare-ribs.  Cedarville  folk  liked  Mrs.  Stryker 
amazingly.  To  be  sure  there  were  sometimes  sober  or  wry 
faces,  when  Mrs.  Stryker's  wagon  drove  off  with  the  rolls  of 
butter,  or  the  cheeses,  or  the  apples,  or  the  dried  peaches,  or 
the  spare-ribs,  that  were  to  have  bought  Susan  a  new  ribbon 
for  her  Sunday  hat,  or  Thomas  another  pair  of  shoes.  But 
then  she  was  the  minister's  wife,  and  it  was  so  kind  of  her 
to  come,  and  she  was  so  pleasant.  Mrs.  Poole  never  would 
come  without  an  invitation,  and  she  was  so  quiet  when  she 
did  come.  They  did  n't  mean  to  say  but  that  they  liked  Mrs. 
Poole  ;  she  was  very  kind  when  Susan  was  sick,  and  staid  a 
whole  week  when  Thomas  broke  his  leg.  But  then,  Mrs. 
Poole  was  n't  Mrs.  Stryker  ;  oh,  no,  that  she  was  n't.  And 
they  talked  themselves  into  such  unbounded  admiration  of 
Mrs.  Stryker,  that  they  almost  wished  they  had  put  the  eggs 
in  the  basket  along  with  the  butter,  or  had  placed  a  hive  of 
honey  beside  the  cheese. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stryker  were  duly  invited  to  Truro.  Special 
attentions  were  bestowed  upon  them,  that  unpleasant  impres- 
sions if  any  existed,  arising  out  of  Mr.  Lee's  opposition  to 
Mr.  Stryker's  election  to  the  pastorship,  might  be  obliterated. 
But  they  were  unnecessary.  Mr.  Stryker  could  not  be  less 
stiff,  nor  Mrs.  Stryker  more  free  and  easy,  under  any  possible 
condition  of  things. 

Maria  went  to  bed  early  that  night  with  a  headache,  and 


MAKE     THE     THISTLE     KINO.  191 

Nellie  found  her  an  hour  afterward  sobbing  over  the  loss  of 
dear  Mr.  Poole. 

Nellie  remembered  the  day  by  still  another  token  ;  Prince, 
the  grayhound,  died  of  old  age.  Honest  tears  were  shed 
over  him. 


XXI. 

$! Hals  0f  fifcamtu  InfolHng, 


'Artist,  attend— your  brushes  and  your  paint — 
Produce  them,  take  a  chair — now  draw  a  saint. 
Oh,  sorrowful  and  sad !  the  streaming  tears 
Channel  her  cheeks — a  Niobe  appears ! 
Is  this  a  saint?    Throw  tints  and  all  away — 
True  piety  is  cheerful  as  the  day, 
Will  weep  indeed  and  heave  a  pitying  groan 
For  others'  woes,  but  smiles  upon  her  own." 

COWPBR. 


J)ERRY  Seymour  came  110  more  to  Truro.  His  vacations 
•*-  were  spent  in  teaching  school,  that  he  might  spare  his 
mother  her  share  of  the  expenses  of  his  education.  Mr. 
Joshua  Sickles  gladly  would  have  borne  it  all ;  but  Perry,  so 
long  as  he  could  help  himself,  would  accept  only  a  certain 
sum  originally  agreed  upon.  To  this  he  was  prompted  by 
his  innate  love  of  independence,  also  by  the  knowledge  that 
a  host  of  beneficiaries,  some  of  them  relations  too,  hung 
heavily  on  the  skirts  of  his  kind  benefactor,  and  the  latter 
viewed  with  jealousy  any  decerption  of  their  prospective  pos- 
sessions. 

Harry  Lee  had  entered  mercantile  life.  He  was  no  longer 
the  gay  and  pure-hearted  boy  who  played  with  Nellie  in 
childhood.  The  boarding-school  mill  had  turned  him  out, 
what  it  usually  turns  boys  out,  a  character  in  which  a  little 
common-place  "  baddishness"  has  injured  the  fine  sensibil- 


PETALS     OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING.       193 

ities,  destroyed  the  boyish  naivete  and  left  it  doubtful 
whether  the  knowledge  and  intelligence  gained  shall  be  the 
instrument  of  ambition,  avarice,  indolence,  or  licentiousness. 
In  Harry  it  took  to  business,  money-making,  and  bargaining. 
Nellie,  at  this  period  of  his  life,  4i  was  only  a  girl."  Rever- 
ence for  her  sex,  the  sentiment  of  brotherly  admiration,  ar*d 
the  power  of  appreciation,  were  all  ground  out  of  him  by  • 
similar  process  to  that  by  which  the  bit  of  oak  comes  from 
the  machine  cut,  measured,  smoothed,  and  polished  into  a 
bobbin,  as  like  every  other  bobbin  in  the  basket,  as  two 
peas.  Nellie  lost  a  brother  when  Harry  became  one  of  the 
world.  Norton  Lee  was  in  Germany,  buried  in  science  and 
metaphysics,  at  some  of  its  universities,  writing  long,  loving, 
and  interesting,  or  prosy  letters,  to  his  youngest  sister,  the 
only  one  of  the  family,  except  his  father,  whom  he  honored 
with  his  correspondence. 

Rupert  was  literally  a  bird  of  passage,  for  he  was  at  home 
only  when  the  birds  were,  and  away  at  all  other  times 
wherever  there  was  sporting,  racing',  hunting,  betting,  or 
whatever  might  attract  his  friends  of  the  ring. 

Robert  and  his  wite,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gracie  Darling 
were  often  at  Truro,  and  Charlotte  and  her  family  always 
spent  the  summer  there,  save  frequent  excursions  to  the 
springs  and  sea-shore.  These  all  regarded  Nellie  as  a  child, 
under  the  especial  care  and  control  of  Miss  Brown,  and  to 
Miss  Brown  they  left  her.  They  admired  her  beauty,  and 
agreed  among  themselves  that  she  would  make  a  sensation  in 
the  world,  when  she  "  came  out ;"  but  their  interest  was  too 
superficial  to  discover  that  hers  was  a  loftier,  more  ennobling 
beauty  than  the  eye  rested  on. 

To  her  father,  Nellie  was  a  child,  too,  but  a  child  of  whom 
9 


194       PETALS     OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING. 

he  was  proud.  "  Pardon  me,  this  is  my  youngest  daughter, 
Helen,"  and  the  grave  senator,  with  whom  he  chanced  to  be 
conversing,  saluted  her  as  "  my  dear,"  and  turned  away  his 
eyes,  heavy  with  thought  and  passion,  to  gaze  anew  into  the 
depths  of  the  interrupted  discussion.  ''Mr.  Prettyman — 
my  daughter,  Helen,"  says  the  father,  by  way  of  excuse  for 
beckoning  Helen  to  him  and  putting  his  arm  round  her 
waist.  Mr.  Prettyman  bows  exquisitely,  manages  to  change 
his  position  to  be  nearer  the  daughter,  and  tries  to  edge  in  a 
compliment  to  her,  while  he  answers  her  father's  last  remark. 
"  This  is  my  youngest  daughter,  Helen.  Do  you  remember 
her  <"  "  Yes,  sir,"  and  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  gives  her  an 
honest  shake  of  the  hand,  and  Nellie  who  does  not  remem- 
ber him,  thinks  him  handsome,  sensible,  and  agreeable. 

But  Nellie  was  no  longer  a  child,  whatever  others  might 
think,  save  in  the  freshness  and  joyousness  of  a  child-like 
heart.  The  sunlight  still  danced  upon  her  hnir,  dimpled  in 
her  cheek,  and  brightened  in  her  eye.  But  there  was 
thought  on  the  brow,  and  decision  on  the  lips,  and  a  womanly 
elegance  in  her  carriage,  even  when  she  bounded  over  the 
lawn  or  down  the  hill,  in  races  with  shouting  nephews  and 
laughing  nieces.  The  senator  found  she  was  no  child,  when 
by  accident  she  was  drawn  into  an  argument  with  him  ;  and, 
being  a  widower,  he  sighed  to  learn  that  she  was  only  almost 
sixteen.  Mr.  Prettyman  thought  her  no  child  when  he  ven- 
tured to  write  verses  on  her  beauty.  And  Mr.  Langdon 
Murray  liked  her  over  well  for  a  child,  though  he  treated 
her  neither  as  child  nor  woman,  but  nicely  adapted  his  ad- 
dress to  a  graceful  betweenity. 

'•'  Only  one  shadow  fell  on  the  bright  and  happy  path  way 


PETALS     OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING.       195 

of  Helen  Lee's  life,  and  that  was  cast  from  the  once  radiant 
parsonage.  Only  one  shadow  ;  but  silently  and  impercep- 
tibly that  shadow  spread  and  darkened.  The  pastor's  influ- 
ence, unconsciously  exerted  by  himself,  unrecognized  by 
those  on  whom  it  was  exerted,  was  weaving  the  dark  threads 
into  a  warp  that  was  made  of  sunbeams. 

Socially  separated  by  uncongenial  elements,  the  pastor  and 
his  wife  never  could  blend  into  the  intimacies  of  the  family 
of  Ti'uro ;  yet  the  shadow  from  the  parsonage  stretched 
across  the  gulf  which  seemed  to  lie  between,  and  enshrouded 
Truro  in  its  gloom. 

Neither  party  knew  it.  The  perfect  politeness,  the  stud- 
ied respect  of  a  well-bred  family  toward  one  who  stood  in 
the  relation  of  a  pastor,  concealed  from  both  parties  the  ex- 
act nature  of  their  sentiments  toward  each  other.  The  Lees 
did  not  reason  about  it ;  there  was  no  attractiveness  in  the 
subject.  The  Strykers  had  not  the  fine  sensibilities  to  detect 
the  want  of  affinity,  or  feel  the  absence  of  love  and  hearti- 
ness in  the  invariable  attention  with  which  they  were  enter- 
tained at  Truro.  Their  visits  were  none  the  less  frequent ; 
nor  did  they  ever  conceive  that  the  presents  they  carried 
home  with  them  were  extorted  by  their  own  hints,  or  ex- 
pressions of  admiration,  and  were  not  the  free,  prompt,  gen- 
erous gifts  of  loving  parishioners.  They  dreamed  not  that 
Mr.  Lee  was  indifferent  to  them,  that  Maria  shrunk  from 
them  with  instinctive  aversion,  that  Helen  struggled  to  con- 
quer dislike  into  charitable  judgment  or  at  least  Christian 
sufferance,  that  Miss  Brown  regarded  them  with  positive, 
perhaps,  undeserved  contempt,  that  Mrs.  Lee,  incapable  of  any 
very  decided  feeling,  was  conscious  only  of  an  uncomfortable, 
^indefinable  sense  of  timidity  in  their  presence,  and  that  the 


196       PETALS     OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING. 

gay  visitors  at  Truro  stared  at  the  parson  and  his  wife,  and 
tried  to  say  witty  and  did  say  funny  and  cutting  things  at 
their  expense. 

They  were  still  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table  one  morn- 
ing, when  a  note  was  handed  to  Helen.  She  opened  and 
read  it. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stryker  will  spend 
the  afternoon  and  take  tea  with  us,  if  we  are  disengaged." 

"  Whe — w — ,"  came  from  Rupert's  side  of  the  table,  and 
the  enunciator  immediately  withdrew,  nor  was  visible  again 
through  the  day. 

"  Hem  !"  a  polite,  elegant  "  hem,"  just  audible,  and  just 
sufficient  to  afford  time  for  obtaining  full  command  of  the 
facial  muscles  of  expression,  was  the  exclamation  at  Miss 
Brown's  corner  of  the  table. 

Mr.  Lee  became  at  once  deeply  absorbed  in  his  newspaper. 
Maria  complained  of  a  little  head-ache.  Mrs.  Lee  was  the 
only  one  to  speak. 

"Tell  Mrs.  Stryker,  Helen,  we  shall  be  glad  to  see  them. 
John,"  she  added  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stryker  had  arrived  before 
the  dessert  was  removed  at  their  last  visit),  tell  the  cook  to 
give  us  dinner  an  hour  earlier  to-day." 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

John  disappeared,  and  in  a  few  moments  returned  again  to 
break  the  silence  that  had  been  uninterrupted  save  by  the 
jingle  of  Nellie's  knife,  with  which  she  was  playing  to  her 
thoughts  on  the  plate. 

"  Cook  wants  to  know,  ma'am,  if  she  shall  make  some  of 
the  muffins,  Mr.  Poole  was  so  fond  of  ?" 

"  No  !"  exclaimed  Nellie,  emphatically. 


PETALS     OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING.       197 

u  Or  if  she  shall  have  a  cup  of  chocolate  ready  when  they 
come,  such  as  Mrs.  Poole — " 

"  No  !"  said  Nellie  again,  interrupting  him.  "Ask  the  cook," 
she  added,  speaking  more  gently,  "  to  make  any  thing  she 
chooses  except  muffins  and  chocolate." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen."     And  the  man  retired  again. 

Nellie's  knife  was  still  now.  For  some  moments  all  were 
plunged  in  deep  thought. 

"  IIow  moping  we  are  this  morning,"  exclaimed  Nellie. 
"  Come,  Maria,  let 's  pick  some  flowers  to  cheer  up  the  oak 
room  a  little  :  and  then  we  '11  have  some  music." 

With  a  languid  step  Maria  followed  her  sprightly  sister — 
who  was  singing  to  herself  "Angels  ever  bright  and  fair." 

The  early  dinner  was  despatched.  No  word  of  pleasant 
expectation,  such  as  once  preceded  the  visits  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Poole,  was  uttered  :  nor  was  aught  said  that  might  be 
construed  into  a  positive  disrelish  of  the  coming  visit.  Only, 
all  were  out  of  sorts.  Even  Nellie's  cheerfulness  lost  its  in- 
fectiousness.  The  dinner  over,  a  dispersion  of  forces  imme- 
diately ensued.  Maria,  who  was  really  an  invalid,  found  it 
necessary  to  retire  to  her  own  room.  Mr.  Lee  announced 
an  engagement  some  miles  distant.  "He  would  be  home 
by  tea-time.  They  must  excuse  him  to  Mr.  Stryker  and  ask 
that  gentleman  to  amuse  himself  in  the  library."  Miss 
Brown  disappeared  from  the  dining-room  and  shortly  reap- 
peared, bonneted  and  cloaked.  "  She  would  spend  the 
afternoon,  she  believed,  with  Mrs.  Hughes.  She  had  long 
promised  them  a  visit.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  were  worthy 
persons.  She  liked  to  show  them  some  attention.  They 


198      PETALS'  OF     CHARACTER     UNFOLDING. 

need  not  send  for  her.     She  would  stay  for  tea  :  and  Mr. 
Hughes  would  walk  home  with  her." 

The  forlorn  prospect  of  entertaining  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stiyker, 
stretched  dismally  before  Nellie,  the  youngest  of  the  family. 
She  could  have  excused  herself,  as  a  child  :  but  she  thought 
of  her  mother.  How  could  she  manage  a  tete-a-tete  with 
the  voluble  Mrs.  Slryker.  Nellie  gave  one  little  sigh,  and 
then  struck  up  the  air  of  Crambambuli :  and  courageously 
determined  to  enjoy  the  visit  and  make  the  visitors  enjoy  it, 
if  she  could. 


XXII. 

tiu0  toitlr 

• 


"  He  nover  greatly  cared  for  the  society  of  what  are  called  good  people.  If  any 
of  them  were  scandalized  (and  offenses  were  sure  to  rise)  he  could  not  help  it. 
When  he  was  remonstrated  with  for  uot  making  more  concessions  to  the  feelings 
of  good  people,  he  would  retort  by  asking,  What  one  point  did  these  good  people 
ever  concede  to  him.v — CHARLES  LAMB. 


rPHE  pastor  and  his  wife  came.  Mr.  Stryker  soon  found 
-*-  his  way  to  the  library,  and  immersed  himself  in  the 
depths  of  the  study  chair  and  some  new  philosophical  treatise. 

"  Will  you  walk  into  the  green-house  ?"  asked  Nellie,  by 
way  of  beginning  the  entertainment,  so  soon  as  the  lady  had 
removed  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  was  prepared  to  be  en- 
tertained. 

Mrs.  Stryker  assented,  and  surveyed  the  flowers  with  that 
degree  of  admiration  that  could  be  expressed  in  very  com- 
mon-place exclamations.  What  she  most  admired,  Nellie 
picked  for  her.  But  Mrs.  Stryker  forgot  the  flowers  in  a 
minute  calculation  as  to  the  amount  of  supposititious  good  the 
money  invested  in  that  green-house  might  accomplish  if  it 
were  given  to  the  poor,  or  to  the  support  of  the  ministry 
among  the  destitute.  By  the  time  she  had  come  to  her  felic- 
itous conclusion  they  had  returned  to  the  oak-room,  and  dis- 
turbed Mrs.  Lee  in  a  tranquil  nap. 

lif  panned  an  argument  by  some  inquiry  in  reference 


200  NETTLES     STING 

to  a  certain  box  of  clothing,  which  the  ladies  of  the  sewing 
circle,  under  the  directresship  of  Mrs.  Stryker,  were  prepar- 
ing for  some  benevolent  destination.  As  Mrs.  Stryker  an- 
swered, she  produced  a  roll  of  red  calico  ruffling,  appertain- 
ing to  sail  1>?x,  and  began  to  hem  and  overhand,  and 
gather,  with  a  rapidity  of  execution  only  equaled  by  her  volu- 
bility. If  the  sewing  was  not  of  the  finest  quality,  neither 
was  the  tnlking. 

"The  cause  of  benevolence,  Miss  Helen,"  she  remarked, 
"is  i.L  a  very  low  ebb  in  Cedarville." 

"Ah  ?"  was  Helen's  interjectional  inquiry. 

"Yes.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  get  the  people  to  do 
their  duty  in  the  way  of  giving." 

"Indeed?" 

"Yes.  They  have  not  been  rightly  instructed.  Good 
Mr.  Poole  did  things  in  such  a  hum-drum  way.  He  was 
not  up  to  the  times.  The  state  of  piety  is  in  a  very  low  con- 
dition. Dead-and-alive,  Mr.  Stryker  calls  it." 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  the  fact."  Nellie  said,  so  pertly  that 
Mrs.  Stryker  looked  up  from  her  red  ruffling  to  read  the 
countenance ;  it  was  glowing  with  more  than  disapproba- 
tion. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  say  a  word  against  Mr.  Poole,  Miss 
Helen,"  she  said,  apologetically.  "  He  was  a  good  man,  un- 
doubtedly, but  rather  old-fashioned,  and,  I  should  judge,  de- 
void of  enthusiasm." 

"Nothing  that  you — that  any  one — could  say,  would 
prejudice  him  in  the  love  and  veneration  of  this  family, 
Mrs.  Stryker,"  answered  Nellie,  with  more  warmth  than  was 
needful. 

The  manner  inoro  thnn  the  words,  interdicted  the  subject 


WITH     BEST     INTENTIONS.  201 

from  further  conversation.  There  was  a  moment  of  painful 
silence.  Nellie  reproached  herself.  Good  humor  could 
suffer  but  an  instant's  intermission  in  her  nature. 

':  Would  you  like  some  music,  Mrs.  Stryker  ?"  she  asked, 
blandly,  by  way  of  further  entertainment. 

Mrs.  Stryker  would  like  it. 

"  What  shall  I  play  ?  What  kind  of  music  do  you 
prefer  ?" 

Mrs.  Stryker  preferred  marches.  Nellie  knew  but  one. 
She  played  that  for  Mrs.  Stryker's  gratification,  and  then 
played  what  she  chose,  for  her  own.  She  quite  forgot  the 
presence  of  Mrs.  Stryker,  till,  in  a  sudden  modulation  of  the 
music,  that  lady's  voice  became  disagreeably  apparent,  and 
lest  her  quiet  mother  should  be  forced  into  conversation,  she 
relinquished  the  piano  for  the  less  attractive  society  of  the 
pastor's  wife. 

"  He  is  a  very  bad  man,"  were  the  first  words  she  heard. 

"  Surprising,"  was  Mrs.  Lee's  monosyllabic  reply,  uttered 
in  a  pitiful  tone — pitiful  to  the  subject  of  the  remark,  or  to 
herself  who  had  to  hear  about  him,  Nellie  a  little  doubted 
which. 

"  Who  ?"  asked  Nellie,  by  way  of  catching  the  thread  of 
the  conversation,  while,  at  the  same  time,  she  renewed  the 
thread  in  her  needle. 

"  Mr.  Ball,  we  were  speaking  of.  He  is  such  a  bad  man," 
Mrs.  Stryker  answered,  with  emphasis  on  the  "bad." 

Nellie  involuntarily  jerked  the  thread  out  of  the  needle 
again.  Steve  Ball  a  bad  man  !  Her  favorite,  ever  since  she 
used  to  stand  and  watch  the  sturdy  strokes  of  his  hammer 
and  the  sparks  from  his  anvil,  when  she  was  a  child,  and 
would  come  home  at  twilight  from  Mrs.  Hughes'.  He  was 

9* 


202  NETTLES    STING 

always  so  kind  and  gentle,  too,  and  treasured  up  so  lovingly 
the  flowers  she  gave  him.  He  a  bad  man  !  She  knew  he 
was  rough,  and  quick-tempered,  and  hot-headed  ;  but  this 
was  not  exactly  what  the  expression,  "such  a  bad  man," 
seemed  to  imply. 

•'  In  what  way  is  he  so  bad  ?"  inquired  Nellie,  as  indiffer- 
ently as  she  could. 

"  He  is  bitterly  opposed  to  temperance.  He  says  if  Mr. 
Stryker  ever  preaches  on  the  subject  again,  as  he  did  last 
Sunday,  he  will  not  attend  church  any  more.  He  is  opposed 
to  personal  religion,  too.  He  forbade  Mr.  Stryker's  ever 
speaking  to  him  on  the  subject.  I  expect  he  will  die  a 
miserable  hardened  drunkard." 

"  A  drunkard !  a  drunkard !"  exclaimed  Nellie,  with 
horror.  "  Surely  you  do  not  mean  that  he  is  intemperate  ?" 

"  Yes  I  do,"  was  Mrs.  Stryker's  decided  answer. 

Nellie  felt  this  piece  of  information  too  painfully  to  ask 
any  more  questions.  Mrs.  Stryker  did  not  need  to  be  cate- 
chized however.  She  volunteered  some  further  remarks, 
which  showed  that  Mr.  Ball  was  not  wholly  given  up  to  the 
hateful  vice,  whatever  might  happen.  He  had  taken  too 
much  on  the  last  election  day — had  been  over-noisy  at  the 
last  wedding  in  the  village ;  and  visited  Tim  Whittaker's 
premises  once  every  day,  which  was  just  once  a  day  too 
often.  Still  Nellie — disposed  to  palliate,  by  the  partiality 
of  friendships,  and  to  hope,  by  the  law  of  a  sanguine  and 
pure  heart — permitted  herself  to  believe  that  the  burly 
blacksmith  would  turn  out  a  sober  man  yet. 

"  How  pretty  his  daughter  Margaret  is,"  said  Nellie,  by 
way  of  diversion. 


WITH    BEST    INTKNTION8.  203 

"  Yes,  a  pretty  girl,  but  very  wild  and  reckless,"  was  the 
answer. 

Nellie  resolved  not  to  be  startled  again  and  remarked 
quietly  that  she  had  always  admired  Margaret  Ball  for  her 
easy,  pleasant,  good-natured  manners. 

"  She  is  a  kind-hearted  girl,  I  believe,"  answered  Mrs. 
Stryker ;  "  but — why,  Mrs.  Lee,  what  do  you  think  of  a 
young  lady,  and  she  too  a  professor  of  religion,  who  would 
walk  up  and  down  the  street,  with  a  young  man,  till  eleven 
o'clock  at  night?" 

"  Might  it  not  depend  on  whom  the  young  man  was  ?" 
asked  Nellie,  answering  for  her  mother,  with  as  much  inter- 
est as  she  could  get  up  in  the  subject. 

"  It  was  not  her  brother,  Miss  Helen ;  nor  her  cousin  ;  nor 
any  young  man  who  belongs  to  Gedarville,  for  I  saw  them 
myself." 

"  You  must  yourself  then  have  kept  late  hours  that  night," 
said  Xellie,  mischievously. 

"  Yes,  I  was  up  rather  late.  I  don't  know  exactly  how  it 
happened." 

Nellie  thought  it  best  not  to  inquire  as  to  the  possibility 
of  recognizing  persons  at  the  distance  of  the  parsonage  from 
the  street,  in  the  night  time.  Anxious  rather  to  escape 
more  village  gossip,  she  abruptly  asked  if  Mr.  Stryker  in- 
tended, in  the  spring,  to  give  his  personal  attention  to  the 
flowers  and  shrubbery  at  Bedminster  ? 

"Oh,  no,"  was  .the  answer.  "He  has  no  taste  for  orna- 
mental gardening.  If  there  were  a  few  acres  to  be  farmed, 
that  would  be  worth  while.  He  thinks  now  of  opening  a 
school  in  the  spring.  It  would  occupy  his  unemployed  time: 


204  NETTLE  S8TINO 

and  would  help,  you  know,  to  eke  out  his  salary-  Ministers 
are  so  poorly  pall." 

"  Could  he  find  children  enough  in  the  village  to  make  it 
profitable  ?"  asked  Nellie.  "  There  are  few  who  can  afford 
to  pay  much :  and  then  there  is  the  free  school ;  pa',  you 
know,  pays  the  salary  of  the  teacher  there." 

"  Mr.  Stryker  would  not  think  of  teaching  a  mere  village 
school,"  Mrs.  Stiyker  answered,  with  some  contempt.  "  He 
designs  opening  a  classical  school,  a  boarding-school  ?" 

"  Have  you  room  to  accommodate  boarders  ?" 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  erect  additions  to  the  house.  Mr. 
Stryker  has  drawn  the  plans  and  got  estimates.  He  hopes 
the  congregation  will  help  him  in  the  expense  of  building :  it 
will  be  for  their  good,  you  kut>w." 

Nellie  did  not  take  in  the  force  of  the  last  observation. 
She  was  wondering  what  addition,  large  enough  for  the  pro- 
posed purpose,  could  be  made  to  the  parsonage,  that  would 
not  mar  its  beauty.  The  subject  carried  her  back  to  the 
time  when  other  occupants  were  the  loveliest  attractions  of 
sweet  Bedminster  parsonage.  She  was  recalled  at  last  by 
hearing  the  name  of  Perry  Seymour :  Mrs.  Stryker  was 
speaking  of  that  young  gentleman  very  familiarly  and  some- 
what patronizingly. 

"  You  know  Mr.  Seymour,  then  ?"  Nellie  asked. 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Stryker's  sister,  Cynthia,  is  teaching  school 
in  the  town  where  he  is  pursuing  his  theological  studies. 
We  went  there  on  our  wedding  trip  and  met  Mr.  Seymour 
several  times.  He  is  a  great  admirer  of  Cynthia.  Indeed, 
it  will,  without  doubt,  be  a  match." 

This  was  too  much.  Nellie  could  hardly  restrain  some 
expression  of  the  absurd  ludicrousness  of  any  such  suppo«: 


WITH     BEST     INTENTIONS.  205 

tion.  Laugh  at  it  she  must  somewhere — not  in  Mrs.  Stry- 
ker's  face — and  hurrying  up  stairs,  she  burst  into  Maria's 
room  and  astonished  her  with  the  length  and  merriment  of 
her  peals  of  laughter. 

:' Nellie,  Nellie,"  implored  Maria,  "  do  stop.  Some  one  is 
calling  you,  do  you  not  hear  ?" 

"  Calling  me  ?"  and  Nellie  listened.  "  Surely  it  is  Mrs. 
Stryker's  voice ;  how  queer !"  Compelling  herself  to  be 
sober,  Nellie  opened  the  door  and  both  saw  and  heard  Mrs. 
Stryker.  She  was  wandering  about  in  the  labyrinth  of 
halls ;  opening  door  after  door,  and  calling  by  turns,  "  Miss 
Helen,"  "  Helen,"  "Nellie,"  "  Miss  Lee  !" 

Surprise  gave  Helen  the  mastery  of  her  risible  muscles, 
but  not  yet  certain  of  her  voice,  she  closed  Maria's  door  and 
slowly  pursued  Mrs.  Stryker — who  was  taking  a  survey  of 
each  room  and  had  evidently  become  interested  in  her  ex- 
plorations. At  the  door  of  one  room,  she  paused  longer 
than  usual,  and  at  last  went  in.  It  was  Norton's  and  had  an 
air  of  comfort  peculiar  to  itself.  Nellie,  following,  found  her 
seated  in  a  large  arm  chair,  deliberately  examining  the  fur- 
niture and  arrangements  of  the  apartment. 

"  Oh  !"  she  said  when  she  saw  Nellie.  "  I  have  been 
looking  for  you.  Your  mother  said  you  were  going  to 
Maria's  room,  I  wanted  to  see  your  sister,  and  followed 
you  :  but  you  went  so  fast.  What  an  immense  house  this 
is !  I  had  no  idea  of  its  size.  I  am  afraid  you  study  here 
too  much  your  worldly  comfort." 

"  Is  that  wrong  ?"  asked  Nellie,  rather  for  the  want  of 
something  to  say,  than  for  a  care  to  receive  instruction. 

"  If  we  must  not  love  the  world,  nor  the  things  of  the 


206  NETTLES     STING 

world,"  said  Mrs.  Stryker,  "  we  should  not  suiround  our- 
selves with  worldly  comforts,  lest  we  full  into  a  snare." 

"May  we  not  trust  God  to  guard  us  from  temptation  *" 

"  What,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Would  God  give  us  comforts,  if  He  did  not  mean  us  to 
enjoy  them ;  and  is  it  grateful  to  refuse  to  enjoy  to  the  full 
the  blessings  which  He  bestows  ?" 

"  God,  my  dear,  may  try  us  to  see  whether  we  love  Him 
or  the  world  better.  To  deny  ourselves  and  take  up  the 
cross ;  to  sell  all  that  we  have,  and  give  to  the  poor ;  these 
are  our  duties." 

"  Are  these  commands  absolute  ?" 

"  What  ?" 

"  Where  would  you  draw  the  line  between  asceticism  and 
a  proper  degree  of  worldly  enjoyment  ?" 

Mrs.  Stryker  still  did  not  comprehend  the  question,  and 
Nellie,  seeing  her  puzzled  look,  took  the  answer  upon  her- 
self. 

"Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  came  eating  and  drinking,  and 
men  said  he  had  a  devil.  This  shows  us  that  extraordinary 
abstinence  is  not  essential  to  the  highest  virtue ;  and  that 
men's  judgment  of  our  course  of  life  is  apt  to  be  erron- 
eous. At  least  our  Lord  Himself  is  a  proof — that  a  man, 
without  neglecting  the  ordinary  customs  of  life,  or  refus- 
ing any  good  or  pleasant  thing  that  Providence  may 
afford,  may  still  be  a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with 
grief.  Mr.  Poole  used  to  say  that  we  should  take  both  the 
pleasures  and  troubles  God  sends  gratefully  ;  and  God  would 
be  sure  to  send  both  as  we  needed  them.  '  No  man  hath  a 
velvet  cross,'  says  Samuel  Rutherford,  '  but  the  cross  is  made 
of  that  which  God  will  have  it.  Howbeit,  it  be  no  warrant- 


WITH    BEST    INTENTIONS.  207 

able  market  to  buy  a  cross.  Sure  I  am,  it  were  better  to 
buy  crosses  for  Christ,  than  to  sell  them ;  howbeit  neither 
be  allowed  to  us.'  Did  you  ever  read  Rutherford's  letters  ?" 

"  No.     Was  he  a  minister  ?" 

"  Yes.  Suppose  we  go  down  stairs  now,"  said  Nellie, 
after  a  moment's  pause,  hoping  that  Mrs.  Stryker's  extraor- 
dinary desire  to  see  Maria  had  subsided. 

"  Let  us  first  go  to  your  sister's  room,"  said  Mrs.  Stryker, 
making  a  motion  to  rise. 

Nellie  hesitated.  "  I  doubt  if  she  feel  well  enough  to  see 
you,  Mrs.  Stryker." 

"  I  will  not  stay  long.  Your  sister  is  in  ill  health.  We 
ought  to  be  faithful  to  her.  Do  yon  ever  speak  to  her  on 
the  importance  of  preparation  for  death  ?" 

"  Not  exactly  about  that,"  Nellie  answered. 

"  How  dreadfully  you  will  feel  when  she  dies,"  Mrs.  Stry- 
ker responded,  reprovingly,  rising  at  the  same  time  with  an 
air  of  determination  that  plainly  said  "  she  would  do  her 
duty." 

Nellie  was  shocked,  and  yet  oddly  inclined  to  smile.  Be- 
sides that  she  never  could  look  on  the  dark  side  of  things, 
there  was  some  ludicrous  incongruity,  rather  felt  than  seen, 
between  the  tenderness  and  awfulness  of  the  event  of  death, 
and  the  matter  of  fact  way  in  which  Mrs.  Stryker  treated  it. 
That  the  death  of  a  sister  should  be  so  unfeelingly  spoken  of, 
and  preparation  for  it  treated  as  a  matter  of  business,  and 
the  question  of  duty  in  reference  to  it  so  nicely  weighed, 
was  new  and  savored  of  a  religious  levity  that  might  well  ex- 
cite a  smile.  But  Mrs.  Stryker  was  making  long  strides 
toward  the  door.  Nellie  laid  her  hand  on  Mrs.  Stryker's 
arm,  asked  her  to  wait  one  moment,  till  she  should  asi 


208  NETTLES     STING 

Maria  if  she  felt  able  to  receive  the  visit,  and  darted  ahead, 
not  doubting  the  compliance  with  her  request.  She  hurried 
to  Maria's  room,  and  did  not  observe  till  she  turned  to  shut 
the  door,  that  the  pastor's  wife  was  closely  following  her. 
That  determined  lady  was  already  on  the  threshold  and, 
without  waiting  for  even  so  much  as  a  nod  of  invitation  or 
permission,  she  walked  directly  to  the  bed  on  which  Maria 
was  reclining. 

"  Miss  Maria,"  she  began,  "  I  am  sorry  you  are  too  sick 
to  come  down  stairs.  Lie  still,  my  dear ;  don't  attempt  to 
rise.  I  felt  as  if  I  must  come  and  talk  with  you  a  little. 
We  should  embrace  opportunities  of  doing  good  as  we  have 
them.  We  do  not  know  how  soon  they  will  pass  away." 
?U1  this  was  said  as  she  advanced  from  the  door  to  the  bed. 
Taking  the  hand  Maria  offered,  she  retained  it  in  her  own, 
and  seated  herself  beside  the  bed.  Maria's  welcome  was  in- 
distinctly uttered,  and  she  stared  at  Mrs.  Stryker  with  a  be- 
wildered air,  as  if  uncertain  whether  she  were  a  part  of  the 
dream  that  had  been  abruptly  terminated  by  her  entrance,  or 
a  living  reality. 

"  You  are  sick  a  great  deal,"  remarked  Mrs.  Stryker,  in 
her  hard,  unsympathetic  voice. 

"  Yes,"  feebly  murmured  Maria. 

"  You  know  what  sickness  is  intended  for  ?" 

Maria's  thoughts  were  not  yet  sufficiently  collected  for  an 
answer. 

"  It  is  intended,"  continued  her  instructress,  "  to  warn  us 
of  death.  You  must  not  shut  your  eyes  to  this  truth.  You 
know  not  how  short  your  time  is.  A  person  as  frail  as  you 
are,  may  be  taken  off  at  any  moment.  Eternity  is  befor* 


WITH     BEST     INTENTIONS.  209 

you.  You  ought  to  be  thinking  about  it,  and  trying  to  gel 
ready  for  it." 

Maria  covered  her  face. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  unwilling  to  converse  on  this  subject, 
are  you  ?" 

No  answer. 

"  Take  care  how  you  harden  your  heart  against  God. 
Perhaps  the  Spirit  is  striving  with  you  now ;  remember  the 
exhortation,  '  Grieve  not  the  Spirit ;'  '  Quench  not  the  Holy 
Ghost.'  Do  you  feel  any  interest,  my  dear,  in  the  subject  of 
religion  ?" 

Maria  looked  imploringly  to  Helen  to  answer  for  her. 

"  Mrs.  Stryker,"  said  Helen,  "  my  sister  is  not  at  all  in- 
sensible to  the  great  truths  of  religion.  But  she  never  can 
talk  freely  on  these  subjects  ;  and  now  she  is  not  well,  and 
can  not  bear  much  conversation." 

"  Well,  ray  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Stryker,  addressing  Maria,  "  I 
have  done  my  duty  as  your  pastor's  wife.  Should  I  never 
see  you  again,  this  will  be  a  comfort  to  me.  I  hope,  how- 
ever, that  God  will  spare  your  life  till  you  think  and  feel 
rightly,  and  are  ready  for  eternity.  I  will  leave  you  a  tract, 
if  you  will  accept  it ;  it  may  be  a  word  in  season."  Mrs. 
Stryker  produced  the  tract.  Maria  murmured  a  faint  "  thank 
you."  And  Nellie  hurried  the  faithful  pastoress  down 
stairs,  resolved  not  to  leave  her  again,  lest  she  might  do  some 
more  mischief. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Lee  returned.  After  due  salutations 
to  the  ladies  in  the  oak-room,  he  sought  his  pastor  in  the 
library.  To  his  apologies,  Mr.  Stryker  answered  that  he  had 
been  deeply  interested  in  the  work  which  he  had  found  on 
the  table. 


210  NETTLES     STING 

"  By  the  by,  where  did  you  get  it  ?  I  see  it  is  imported," 
Mr.  Stryker  concluded. 

"  Several  copies  of  it  were  imported  by " 

"Howimielv  is  it? — the  price,  I  mean,"  interposed  Mr. 
Stryker. 

"  Five  dollars." 

"  Ah  !  Five  dollars !  I  must  go  without  it  then  for 
awhile.  We  ministers  have  to  learn  self-denial.  Yet,  really 
this  is  an  important  work.  I  hardly  can  dispense  with  it. 
But  I  must." 

Mr.  Lee  listened  to  the  end,  with  a  smile  of  ironical  mean- 
ing, and  then  said,  as  little  warmly  as  a  generous  nature 
could, 

"  Accept  that  copy,  sir,  I  will  procure  another  for  my- 
self." 

"  You  are  very  kind ;  too  kind.  And  that  reminds  me 
that  I  have  an  appeal  to  make  to  your  liberality.  I  have 
concluded,"  and  Mr.  Stryker,  while  he  spoke,  opened  the 
book,  and  reached  over  for  the  pen,  "  to  establish  a  first- 
rate  classical  school ;"  he  paused  to  write  upon  the  fly-leaf,  in 
large  letters,  the  name,  James  Stryker,  Jr.,  with  a  customary 
flourish  attached,  "  such  a  school  is  very  much  needed  here." 
He  paused  again,  intent  on  the  inscription. 

"  I  was  not  at  all  aware  that  Cedarville  needed  a  first-rate 
classical  school,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  with  quiet  satire. 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed  it  does,"  answered  Mr.  Stryker,  abstract- 
edly, still  engaged  with  his  pen,  "you  know" — and  he 
paused  again  to  embellish  the  written  page  with  another 
characteristic  flourish. 

"  There,"  he  exclaimed,  at  last,  "  I  shall  value  that  book 
most  highly,  for  your  sake,  sir  ;"  and  he  read  aloud  the  in 


WITH     BEST     INTENTIONS.  211 

scription  for  the  gratification,  as  he  honestly,  or  stupidly  sup- 
posed, of  Mr.  Lee : 

JAMES   ST11YKEK.   JR., 

FROM  HIS 
MOST     HIGHLY     ESTEEMED     AND     BELOVED 

FRIEND     AND     PARISHIONER, 
ROBERT    LEE,    ESQ., 


He  was  too  intently  interested  and  pleased  himself,  to  ob- 
serve the  expression  of  annoyance  on  Mr.  Lee's  face,  who 
secretly  resolved  never  to  give  another  book  that  might 
bring  his  name  into  such  unwonted  combinations  of  esteem 
and  affection. 

The  air  with  which  the  book  was  laid  aside,  said,  "  that's 
safe,  and  now  to  business."  and  Mr.  Stryker  squared  about 
and  addressed  himself  to  direct  action. 

"  Concerning  the  school,  sir ;  it  will  be  a  great  advantage 
to  the  village." 

"  Will  you  find  a  single  pupil  for  a  classical  school  in  the 
village  ?"  asked  Mr.  Lee. 

"  You  misunderstand.  It  is  a  boarding-school  I  propose. 
Here,  sir,  read  this  draft  of  a  prospectus." 

Mr.  Lee  received  in  silence  the  paper  which  Mr.  Stryker 
produced  from  his  pocket,  am!  read,  without  note  or  com- 
ment, a  long  grandiloquent  eulogy  on  the  beauty  and  health- 
ful iH-ss  of  Cedarville,  and  the  transcendent  excellence  of  the 
school  which  was  to  be  established  at  the  Bedminster  parson- 
age, by  the  Rev.  James  Stryker,  whose  superior  abilities  and 
eapnbilities  could  be  vouched  for  by  some  dozen  most  respect- 


212  N ET  TLES     8TI  N (; 

able  names ;  first  and  foremost  of  whom  was  Robert  Lee, 
Esq.,  of  Truro.  Without  remark,  Mr.  Lee  returned  the  pros- 
pectus to  Mr.  Stryker's  hand,  at  the  same  moment,  rising 
from  his  chair,  he  proposed  joining  the  ladies  in  the  oak- 
room. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  plan  ?"  asked  the  disappointed 
pastor,  pertinaciously  keeping  his  seat. 

"  It  is  a  matter  in  which  my  judgment  is  of  no  value.  I 
am  not  experienced  in  boarding-schools."  And  Mr.  Lee 
walked  to  the  door. 

"  Wait  one  minute,  if  you  please,  sir,"  urged  Mr.  Stryker, 
still  keeping  his  seat,  as  if  to  decoy  his  prey  back  again.  "I 
shall  need  some  funds  for  this  enterprise.  It  will  be  neces- 
sary to  erect  an  addition  to  the  parsonage ;  and  as  the  ad- 
dition will  be  the  property  of  the  church,  and  the  school  will 
be  an  advantage  to  the  village,  I  hope  that  the  people  will 
contribute  something  to  aid  the  object." 

Mr.  Stryker  paused.  Mr.  Lee,  with  patience  smiling  po- 
litely on  his  face,  remained  silent,  as  if  he  were  not  expected 
to  speak. 

"May  I  hope,"  ventured  Mr.  Stryker,  coming  directly  to 
the  point,  "for  a  handsome  contribution  from  the  liberal 
owner  of  Truro  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  was  the  decided  answer. 

What  an  art  there  is  in  saying  "  no."  There  is  the  weak 
and  irresolute  monosyllable  that  invites  request  anew.  The 
sharp  and  irritated  "  no,"  that  may  be  repented  of  in  a  cooler 
moment.  The  angry,  rude  "  no,"  that  repels  the  timid,  but 
does  not  conquer  the  pertinacious  beggar.  The  loud,  impe- 
rious "no,"  designed  to  rebuff  and  silence,  and  does  not 
always  succeed.  The  gentle  insinuating  "no,"  that  begs 


WITH     BEST     INTENTIONS.  213 

you  not  to  insist  and  not  to  be  offended.  The  mild,  prelim- 
inary "  no,"  that  precedes  the  reasons  for  refusal,  and  does 
not  shut  out  argument,  or  decline  the  power  of  persuasion. 
And  the  polite,  determined,  full,  round,  clever  "  no,"  that 
leaves  you  as  hopeless  as  if  it  were  Mont  Blanc  suddenly 
rising  before  you,  and  yet  as  unruffled  as  if  it  were  the  sweet- 
est note  of  music  that  had  breathed  upon  your  ear.  You  do 
not  think  of  asking  its  reasons,  and  you  can  not  suppose  that 
any  affront  to  yourself  is  meant.  The  man  has  merely  given 
you  a  simple,  definite  "  no."  His  mind  is  made  up  ;  no  dis- 
respect is  intended,  no  harm  is  done.  Without  another 
word  the  matter  is  dismissed,  and  ever  after  you  are  as  good 
friends  as  if  the  "no"  had  never  been  uttered.  This  was 
the  kind  of  "  no"  which  Mr.  Lee  now  spoke,  and  only  the 
perfect  gentleman,  like  Mr.  Lee,  can  speak  it. 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  and  immediately  led  his  guest 
to  the  oak-room.  Arrived  there,  he  devoted  himself  to  the 
entertainment  of  Mr.  Stryker ;  and  Mr.  Stryker  never  pre- 
sumed again  to  speak  of  his  school,  and  the  advantages  it 
was  to  be  to  the  village  of  Cedarville. 


XXIII. 

Spiritual  Jro0$ngs  unter  |afc  Culture. 


"Now  if  a  shepherd  know  not  which  grass  will  bane,  or  which  not,  how  Is 
be  fit  to  be  a  shepherd  ?" — GEOEGF.   HKRBRBT. 


MRS.  HUGHES  was  sewing.  There  were  tear-drops  in 
her  eyes.  She  heard  sonic  one  enter  the  room  and  did 
not  look  round  as  she  put  the  inquiry, 

"  George,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Nellie  has  just  been  here,  George.  She  would  like  you 
to  call  at  Truro  to  see  her  sister  Maria." 

"  To  see  her  sister  Maria !" 

"  Yes.  Not  to-day  ;  it  is  too  late  :  to-morrow  afternoon, 
if  you  can." 

"To  see  Miss  Maria  Lee?"  asked  George,  with  increasing 
surprise. 

"  She  is  in  great  distress  of  mind,  George,  arid  Nellie 
thinks  you  can  comfort  and  instruct  her." 

"  In  spiritual  distress,  Mrs.  Hughes  ?"  it  was  the  voice  of 
Mr.  Graves  that  asked  this  question. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  startled  answer  of  Mrs.  Hughes. 

"  I  came  in,"  Mr.  Graves  explained,  in  answer  to  the  in- 
quiring and  astonished  looks  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes, 


SPIRITUAL     D  RO  O  P  I  N  G  8,  ETC  .  215 

"  without  knocking ;  I  saw  you,  sir,  enter  just  before  me  and 
I  thought  your  wife  saw  me  pass  the  window." 

"  Happy  to  sec  you,  sir,"  said  George  Hughes. 

"  I  heard  only  your  last  words,  Mrs.  Hughes,  I  should  like 
to  learn  the  particulars.  How  long  has  Miss  Lee  been  in  a 
state  of  religious  anxiety  .'" 

If  there  was  a  person  to  whom  she  would  have  preferred 
not  to  confide  any  information  on  the  subject  inquired  about, 
that  person  was  Mr.  Amos  Graves.  But  it  was  too  late. 
He  already  knew  almost  as  much  as  she  did.  She  answered, 
giving  her  voice  as  much  carelessness  as  the  subject  would 
allow,  that  she  had  heard  no  more  than  that  Miss  Lee  was  in 
M)iuc  (iisnvss  of  mind,  under  some  clouds  and  darkness  as  to 
lu-r  spiritual  ink-rests. 

Mr.  Graves  expressed  unbounded  satisfaction.  From  the 
pleasure  Maria's  troubles  afforded  him,  it  might  be  in- 
terred that  "distress  of  mind"  is  a  most  delectable  malady. 

"This  is  the  beginning  of  a  good  work,"  he  said.  "The 
waters  are  moving.  Mr.  Stryker's  preaching  is  taking  ef- 
fect. If  professors  of  religion  are  only  faithful,  we  shall 
have  a  great  revival  soon.  It  will  not  be  Mr.  Stryker's  fault, 
if  we  do  not" 

"  Will  it  be  his  merit  if  we  do  ?"  asked  George  Hughes. 

"  No  :  of  course  not.  Paul  may  plant,  and  Apollos  water, 
you  know.  Hut  then  God  blesses  the  right  means,  and  does 
not  \\-nrk  without  them.  We  must  all  work,  sir,  and  I  have 
come  to  ;i>k  yon  to  do  soi net h ing  for  the  good  cause.  Mr. 
Stryker  \\ishes  OIK-  of  the--e  traeN  plaeed  in  the  hands  of 
every  impenitent  sinner  in  the  eongregntioii.  It  's  a  very 
alarming,  awakening  tract.  He  wishes  them  distributed  this 
week,  for  he  intends  to  preach  on  the  subject  next  Sunday, 


216  SPIRITUAL    DKOOPIKG6 

and  he  wants  sinners  prepared  to  hear  as  for  their  lives. 
Will  you  aid  us  in  circulating  them,  Mr.  Hughes  ?" 

"  First,  Mr.  Graves,  I  must  read  and  examine  the  tract  it- 
self." 

Mr.  Graves  stared.  Mr.  Hughes  answered  the  stare.  "  I 
do  not  approve  of  the  indiscriminate  distribution  of  all  kinds 
of  tracts." 

Mr.  Graves  was  stunned.  To  look  with  suspicion  on  any 
thing  in  the  shape  of  a  religious  tract ;  or  to  doubt  whether 
it  were  advisable  to  put  any  religious  tract  whatever  into  the 
hands  of  any  person  whomsoever,  was  a  novel  and  horrible 
species  of  skepticism  in  Mr.  Graves'  apprehension.  It  all 
grew  out  of  the  low  state  of  religion  in  Cedarville,  was  the 
conclusion  he  came  to,  on  more  mature  reflection.  But  at 
the  moment,  he  was  prepared  with  DO  answer — and  only  re- 
marked, as  he  laid  the  tracts  down,  that  he  was  sure  this  tract 
was  well  adapted  to  awaken  sinners. 

Young  Mr.  Graves  went  back  to  the  subject  of  Miss  Lee. 
He  was  so  glad  to  hear  that  that  gay,  volatile,  worldly  young 
lady  was  at  last  awakened. 

Mrs.  Hughes  corrected  him.  Miss  Lee  was  not  gay,  vola- 
tile and  worldly  :  but  thoughtful,  sedate  and  religiously  dis- 
posed. 

Mr.  Graves  did  not  know  how  accurately  the  terms  he 
used  described  the  young  lady  herself.  But  she  belonged 
to  a  frivolous  and  wicked  family,  which  was  about  the  same 
thing,  in  his  judgment.  But,  awakened  now,  he  hoped  her 
feeling*  would  Income  more  and  more  poignant:  and  he 
had  no  doubt  it  was  all  owing  to  the  faithful  preaching  of 
Mr.  Stryker. 

The  last  position  Mrs.  Hughes  contested.     She  thought  it 


UNDER     BAD     CULTURE.  2lY 

doubtful  if  Miss  Lee,  who  was  delicate,  and  seldom  attended 
church,  had  heard  Mr.  Stryker  preach  more  than  two  or 
three  times. 

That  was  often  enough,  Mr.  Graves  urged.  But  whether 
awakened  by  his  preaching,  or  not,  dear  Mr.  Stryker  would 
be  delighted  to  hear  that  she  was  awakened,  and  he  must 
hasten  to  impart  the  joyful  news  to  the  pastor. 

Mrs.  Hughes  would  have  begged  him  not  to  inform  Mr. 
Stryker ;  but  to  whom  should  such  information  be  commu- 
nicated, if  not  to  the  pastor?  She  hesitated;  and  Mr. 
Graves  was  gone. 

Pretty  Margaret  Ball  was  singing  to  herself, 
"  If  a  body  meet  a  body," 

when  she  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  full  stop,  and  nearly  to 
the  crying  point,  by  meeting  no  less  formidable  a  body  than 
young  Mr.  Graves. 

"  Hum  !"  said  Margaret,  to  herself. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?"  said  Mr.  Graves,  aloud,  with  a  sen- 
sible fluttering  about  his  virgin  heart. 

"  Thank  you.  Pleasant  evening  for  November,"  Margaret 
coldly  remarked. 

"  Yes.  You  are  alone,  and  it  is  growing  late,"  was  the 
response,  suggestive  of  an  escort  at  hand. 

"  I  was  alone ;"  the  emphasis  said  she  wished  she  could 
say  "  am." 

Mr.  Graves  felt  the  emphasis,  and  instead  of  offering  his 
escort,  stammered  out  something  about  its  being  good  for 
Christians  to  be  alone  sometimes,  that  they  might  meditate. 

Margaret's  rather  embarrassing  answer  was,  "  Yes,  Mr. 
10 


218  SPIRITUAL    DROOPING8 

Graves,  I  think  it  is  sometimes  very  good  ;  so,  good  evening, 
sir." 

Mr.  Graves  was  not  quite  ready  to  be  dismissed. 

"  One  moment,  Miss  Margaret,  if  you  please,"  and  he  laid 
iris  hand  on  her  arm  to  detain  her.  Miss  Margaret  stood 
still.  Mr.  Graves  kept  her  waiting ;  his  thoughts  would  fly 
off  to  the  pretty  green  ribbon  she  had  bought  in  the  store, 
or  something  else,  that  fixed  his  eyes  and  mind  on  the  in- 
side of  her  bonnet.  At  last  he  began  with  due  precision 
and  solemnity. 

"  Miss  Margaret,  we  are  about  to  have  a  great  revival  here. 
The  work  has  already  begun.  You  will  rejoice  to  hear  that 
Miss  Maria  Lee  is  suffering  great  agony  of  mind. 

"  Miss  Maria  Lee  ?"  exclaimed  Margaret. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Maria  Lee.  Such  is  often  the  case  ;  the  worst 
and  most  hardened  are  first  awakened  in  the  beginning  of  a 
revival." 

"  I  hope  you  do  not  place  Miss  Maria  in  that  class !"  ex- 
claimed Margaret,  half  amused,  and  more  indignant. 

"  W-e-11,  not  exactly  in  that  class,  perhaps ;  but,  we  would 
not  have  expected  the  work  to  begin  with  her.  But  it  has 
begun ;  and  we,  professors,  must  now  bestir  ourselves  and 
try  to  help  it  on.  Of  course  you  will  do  what  you  can. 
Perhaps  you  will  consent  to  distribute  some  of  these  tracts. 
Mr.  Stryker  wishes  them  circulated  among  the  impenitent 
and  — " 

"  Tracts  ?"  interrupted  Margaret,  "  What  kind  of  tracts  ? 
Is  the  Dairyman's  Daughter  among  them  ?" 

"No.  They  are  all  on  the  same  subject;  an  alarming, 
awakening  appeal  to  sinners ;  a  thunder  shout  in  their  ears ; 
a  lightning  bolt  directed  at  their  consciences."  Mr.  Graves 


UNDER     BAD     CULltfRE.  219 

enthusiasm  warmed,  and  his  long  finger  darted  the  fiery 
weapons  with  pointed  precision.  "Who  can  tell  what  des- 
truction they  will  do.  If  you  would  only  give  one  to  your 
father,  Miss  Margaret,  it  might  — " 

'"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  Margaret,  nervously,  as  the 
image  of  her  father's  flaming  wrath  at  any  such  assault,  was 
pictured  to  her  imagination.  "  You  must  excuse  me.  I  am 
not  fit.  I  can  not.  Ask  Sarah  Hayes,  she  is  just  the  person 
— so  quiet,  gentle,  and  good.  Folks  will  take  any  thing 
from  Sarah.  Good  evening,  Mr.  Graves."  And  Margaret 
tripped  away  before  he  could  add  a  word  of  persuasion. 

"  How  low  the  state  of  religion  is  :  what  a  change  the  re- 
vival will  make !"  thought  Mr.  Graves,  as  he  resumed  his 
solitary  walk  to  the  parsonage  :  but,  somehow,  his  thoughts 
were  more  occupied,  during  the  rest  of  his  walk,  with  the 
image  of  pretty  Margaret  Ball,  than  with  either  the  low  state 
of  religion,  or  the  prospective  benefits  of  the  revival.  Oh,  the 
frailty  of  this  human  heart ! 

The  next  morning  the  family  at  Truro  were  surprised  by 
a  visit  from  Mr.  Stryker.  He  asked  for  Mrs.  Lee,  and  when 
she  entered  the  oak-room,  he  inquired  immediately  "  how 
Miss  Maria  was  ?" 

"  As  well  as  usual,  thank  you." 

"  I  mean  in  her  mind  ?" 

"  In  her  mind  ?" 

"  Yes.  ma'am.  She  is,  I  understand,  under  pungent  con- 
victions of  sin,  asking  what  she  shall  do  to  be  saved  ?  Has 
she  found  relief?" 

"  I  know  nothing  of  it.  Surely,  Mr.  Stryker,  you  are  mis- 
taken." Mrs.  Lee  looked  distressed  and  perplexed.  She 


220  SPIRITUAL     DROOPING8 

pulled  tne  bell-rope  and  desired  the  servant   to  call  Miss 
Helen. 

Mr.  Stryker  was  the  first  to  catechize  that  young  lady  on 
her  appearance,  for  Mrs.  Lee  could  not  yet  comprehend  the 
exact  occasion  of  his  visit. 

"  I  have  come,  Miss  Helen,  to  have  au  interview  with 
your  sister  Maria.  I  have  heard  of  her  concern  for  her 
soul — yes,"  he  added,  observing  Nellie's  look  of  undisguised 
astonishment.  "  Mr.  Graves  heard  it  from  Mrs.  Hughes  and 
informed  me." 

"  How  could  cousin  Hetty  !"  ejaculated  Nellie. 
"  Helen,"  asked  Mrs.  Lee,  "  what  does  all  this  mean  ?" 
"  It  means,  ma',  only  that  Maria  is  depressed  in  spirits  and 
I  spoke  to  Mrs.  Hughes  about  it,  not  dreaming  that  it  would 
go  further." 

"  This  depression  arises  from  religious  feelings  ?"  asked  Mr 
Stryker. 
"Yes,  sir." 

"  I   had   better  see   and    converse   with   her,  then,"  he 
said. 

"  I  would  advise  against  it,  sir,"  interposed  Nellie,  "  she  is 
so  very  weak  and  nervous — " 

"  Miss  Helen,"  and  Mr.  Stryker  assumed  an  air  of  severity, 
so  like  the  reproving  glances  of  the  Sunday-school  Jim 
Stryker,  in  old  times,  that  Nellie  found  herself  smiling  at  the 
recollection  in  spite  of  her  real  distress  and  annoyance, 
"  Miss  Helen,  beware  how  you  interfere  with  a  pastor  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty.  Mrs.  Lee,"  and  lie  turned  to  the 
mother,  as  the  higher  authority — the  act  itself  was  another 
rebuke  to  Nellie,  as  if  she  were  assuming  too  much — "  have 
you  any  objections  to  my  seeing  your  daughter  ?" 


UNDER     BAD     CULTURE.  221 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not :  that  is,  if  you  think  you  ought 
to  and  if  she  is  willing.  Certainly,  Helen,  my  dear,  if  Maria 
needs  religious  counsel  she  ought  to  receive  it  from  Mr. 
Stryker." 

"  I  will  tell  Maria  that  Mr.  Stryker  is  here,"  Helen  an- 
swered meekly. 

The  pastor  was  escorted  to  the  sick  room.  He  plied  the 
invalid  with  questions,  which  either  she  did  not  understand, 
or  could  not  overcome  her  natural  incommunicativeness  to 
answer.  Failing  to  draw  her  out,  and  ascribing  her  tacitur- 
nity to  to  a  voluntary  cause,  he  proceeded  in  his  alarming 
way  to  warn  her  against  stifling  conviction.  Few  were  the 
words  of  hope  and  promise  he  spoke.  His  very  prayer  was 
comfortless.  And  he  left  the  sick  girl  in  deeper  despond- 
ency than  he  found  her  in. 

George  Hughes  called  in  the  afternoon :  Maria  was  too  ill 
to  see  him.  Helen  explained  the  reason  why  she  had  in- 
vited his  visit,  and  which,  in  her  hasty  call  on  horse-back  at 
the  tannery,  the  day  before,  she  had  not  been  able  to  give  in 
detail  to  Mrs.  Hughes.  The  tender  interest  in  Bible  truth 
which  Maria  had  evinced  for  a  year  past :  her  conscientious 
regard  to  all  her  duties :  her  earnest  seeking  after  light :  her 
self-distrust :  her  extreme  diffidence  in  speaking  of  herself, 
even  to  her  sister ;  and  all  the  grounds  on  which  rested  the 
hope  that  she  was  indeed  a  child  of  God — Helen  now  re- 
peated to  George  Hughes.  "A  few  days  since,"  she  con- 
tinued, "Mrs.  Stryker  paid  her  a  visit,  conversed  with  her 
and  gave  her  a  tract  to  read.  After  the  visit,  and  es- 
pecially after  reading  the  tract,  Maria  seemed  unusually 
depressed  in  mind.  At  last  in  broken  words  she  told 
me  the  cause :  she  feared  lest  she  had  sinned  away  the 


222  SPIRITUAL     DROOPINGS 

day  of  grace  and  resisted  the  mercy  of  God  till  she  was 
given  over  to  unbelief  and  hardness  of  heart ;  and  that  that 
was  the  reason  why  no  light,  peace,  hope  and  joy  were  im- 
parted to  her  in  answer  to  her  prayers.  For  these  fears  she 
gave  not  a  solitary  good  reason.  Weak,  nervous  and  natur- 
ally disposed  to  despondency,  the  tract  and  Mrs.  Stryker's 
conversation  together,  had  disturbed  her  mind  and  agitated 
her  to  such  a  degree  that  she  was  ready  to  believe  that  she 
had  committed  even  that  most  awful  sin,  a  sin  of  the  real 
nature  of  which  she  has  not  one  clear  idea." 

"  What  was  the  title  of  Mrs.  Stryker's  tract  ?"  Mr.  Hughes 
asked. 

" '  Sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.'  " 
"  I  feared  so." 

"  You  know  the  tract  then,  and  do  not  approve  of  it  ?" 
"  I  read  it  last  night.  It  relates  a  remarkable  case  of  a 
man  who  resisted,  resolutely  and  maliciously  resisted,  relig- 
ious impressions,  till  he  became  completely  insensible  to  the 
subject,  and  after  a  life  of  wickedness,  was  suddenly  struck 
down  by  death  in  the  just  judgment  of  God." 

"  Yes ;"  exclaimed  Helen,  "  that  is  the  very  one.  Dear 
Mr.  Hughes,  can  it  be  right  to  put  such  a  tract  into  the 
hands  of  every  body." 

"  Certainly  not,  Nellie.  To  do  so  is  like  administering 
the  same  powerful  medicine  to  every  sick  person.  Some  the 
medicine  would  cure ;  to  most  it  would  be  death.  That 
tract  is  exactly  adapted  to  produce  the  effect  on  weak  minds 
and  sensitive  consciences,  that  it  has  upon  your  sister.  She 
needs  the  Gospel  medicine — the  free,  full,  persuasive  offers  of 
the  blessed  Saviour.  Oh  !  that  our  ministers  could  oftener  ap- 
ply to  themselves  the  Lord's  recommendation  of  Himself 


UNDER     BAD     CULTURE.  223 

aa  a  teacher :  '  Learn  of  Me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart.' " 

"Indeed,"  says  President  Edwards,  "something  beside,* 
terror  is  to  be  preached  to  them  whose  consciences  are 
awakened.  They  are  to  be  told  that  there  is  a  Saviour  pro- 
vided, who  is  excellent  and  glorious ;  who  has  shed  His  pre- 
cious blood  for  sinners,  and  is  every  way  sufficient  to  save 
them,  if  they  will  heartily  embrace  Him.  This  is  tho  word 
of  God.  Sinners,  at  the  same  time  that  they  are  told  how 
miserable  their  case  is,  should  be  earnestly  invited  to  come 
and  accept  of  a  Saviour,  and  yield  their  hearts  unto  Him, 
with  all  the  winning,  encouraging  arguments,  that  the  gospel 
affords." 


XXIV. 


g  Jlatoer  (iatbmfc  fog  a 

•'  At  evening  time  let  there  be  light  :  — 

Life's  little  day  draws  near  Its  close  ; 
Around  me  fall  the  shades  of  night, 

The  night  of  death,  the  grave's  repose  ; 

To  crown  my  joys,  to  end  my  woes, 
At  evening  time  let  there  be  light. 

"At  evening  time  there  ahdtt  be  light:  — 

For  God  hath  said—'  So  let  it  be  !' 
Fear,  doubt,  and  anguish  take  their  flight, 
His  glory  now  is  risen  on  me  ; 
Mine  eyes  shall  his  salvation  see  : 
Tis  evening  time,  and  there  is  light" 

JAKES  MONTGOMEBY. 

TJELEN  was  saluted,  on  her  way  to  church,  the  next  Sun- 
-*-'-  day,  with  the  question  pronounced  with  every  shade  of 
solemn  interest,  "  How  does  your  sister  Maria  feel  now  ?" 
She  was  distressed  to  find  that  the  subject  of  village  gossip 
which  she  would  have  preferred  to  confine  to  the  confidence 
of  few.  Poor  Maria  !  must  she,  so  sensitive  to  remark,  suf- 
fer the  public  exposition  of  her  most  sacred  feelings  !  Mr. 
Stryker,  too,  could  hardly  have  prayed  more  pointedly,  and, 
Nellie  thought,  indelicately,  for  her  sister,  had  he  mentioned 
her  by  name.  Mr.  Stryker  was  addicted  to  personalities, 
even  in  prayer.  How  often  Nellie  felt  the  loss  of  the  ele- 
vated and  tender  tone  of  Mr.  Poole's  devotional  spirit. 

The  rumor  of  Miss  Lee's  religious  anxiety  (repeated  till  it 


A     FLOWER     GATHERED,     ETC.  225 

had  grown,  by  exaggerations,  distortions,  and  addenda,  into 
a  tale  of  formidable  length  and  most  minute  details),  aided 
by  the  alarming  and  awakening  tract,  which  had  been  gen- 
erously distributed ;  and,  followed  by  Mr.  Stryker's  "  rous- 
ing sermon,"  as  Mr.  Graves  called  it,  which  was  a  reiteration 
of  the  fearful  warnings  of  the  tract,  produced  a  deep  and 
powerful  impression  among  the  villagers.  Before  the  day 
was  over,  there  were  evidences  that  others,  besides  Miss  Lee, 
were  "  under  convictions."  Mr.  Stryker,  therefore,  gave  no- 
tice that  there  would  be  religious  services  in  the  church 
every  evening  that  week ;  a  prayer-meeting  at  five  o'clock 
every  morning,  in  the  school-house ;  and  a  meeting  for  in- 
quirers at  four  o'clock  every  afternoon,  at  the  parsonage. 
The  revival  began  then  in  good  earnest,  and  continued  for 
three  weeks.  President  Edwards  says,  "  The  great  weakness 
of  the  greater  part  of  mankind,  in  any  affair  that  is  new  and 
uncommon,  appears  in  not  distinguishing,  but  either  approv- 
ing or  condeming  all  in  the  lump."  Avoiding  that  weak- 
ness, we  shall  not,  with  young  Mr.  Graves,  "  approve  in  the 
lump,"  nor,  with  Steve  Ball,  "  condemn  in  the  lump,"  all 
that  was  done  in  that  revival,  but  only  aver,  that  many  were 
added  unto  the  church  of  such  as  should  be  saved,  and  many 
crept  in  unawares. 

Night  after  night,  Nellie  heard  the  sharp  twang  of  the 
church  bell  ringing  the  villagers  to  meeting.  The  first  hur- 
ried, rattling  peal,  the  regular  succession  of  quick,  loud 
strokes  of  the  clapper,  the  long,  sullen  vibrations  of  the  slow 
tolling,  and  the  final  bang,  with  which  the  sexton  announced 
his  own  satisfaction  that  the  job  was  over.  How  familiar 
did  these  notes  become  as  Nellie  sat  in  the  sick  room  of  her 
dying  sister,  and  how  inseparably  associated  with  those 

10* 


226  A     FLOWEK     GATHERED 

hours  of  watcLing  was,  ever  afterward,  the  sound  of  the 
Cedarville  bell. 

Why  are  relations  and  friends  ever  blind  to  the  insidious 
advances  of  disease,  which  a  proper  degree  of  observation 
might  detect  1  For  months  the  flower  had  been  fading  un- 
der their  eyes,  and  they  saw  it  not,  till  their  fears  were 
aroused  by  this  severe  and  sudden  attack.  Then  consulta- 
tions were  held,  plans  proposed,  means  discussed,  that  were 
too  tardy  by  a  twelvemonth.  They  would  convey  her  to 
Charlotte's  plantation  in  the  sunny  south ;  she  should  go 
to  Cuba ;  the  most  eminent  medical  advice  in  Europe  should 
be  consulted ;  the  balmiest  atmosphere  of  France,  Italy,  or 
the  Mediterranean  isles  should  be  tried — alas !  all  too  late ! 
neglectful  inattention  had  suffered  the  uncomplaining  invalid 
to  pass  the  point  of  possible  recovery.  Physicians,  now 
vainly  called,  shook  their  heads  and  pronounced  no  word  of 
hope. 

For  ten  days  after  Mr.  Stryker's  visit,  Maria  was  in  a 
burning  fever,  and  either  madly  delirious,  or  bewildered  in 
confused  wanderings  of  thought :  then  the  fever  subsided ; 
extreme  prostration  followed,  and  her  mind,  never  strong  or 
active,  seemed  incapable  of  the  least  exertion.  Nellie,  the 
meanwhile,  was  kept  a  constant  prisoner  at  the  bed-side ; 
her  ever  cheerful  face  and  voice  soothed  the  patient,  when  no 
other  could. 

One  Sunday  morning  Helen  sought  refreshment  and  exer- 
cise in  the  garden.  Maria,  after  a  quiet  night,  was  sleeping 
and  did  not  need  her.  It  was  the  third  week  in  November. 
The  fall,  late  that  year,  was  now  rapidly  advancing  to  the 
embrace  of  winter.  The  atmosphere,  when  she  first  left  the 
house,  felt  wet  and  chilly.  A  few  flowers,  which  still  sur- 


BY     A     GENTLE     REAPER.  22  Y 

vived,  poor  comfortless  tilings,  exhaled  a  withered  odor. 
Nellie's  heart  was  heavy  ;  and  the  first  look  out-doors  made 
it  heavier.  She  thought  of  Tennyson's  sad  song  and  repeat- 
ed the  words  to  herself. 

"The  air  is  damp  and  hushed  and  close, 
As  a  sick  man's  room  when  he  taketh  repose 

An  hour  before  death ; 

My  very  heart  faints  and  my  whole  soul  grieves 
At  the  moist  rich  smell  of  the  rotting  leaves, 

And  the  breath 

Of  the  fading  edges  of  the  box  beneath, 
And  the  year's  last  rose. 

Heavily  hangs  the  broad  sun-flower 
Over  its  grave  i'  the  earth  so  chilly  ; 

Heavily  hangs  the  holly-hock, 
Heavily  hangs  the  tiger-lily." 

"  These,"  thought  Nellie,  "  are  the  sentiments  of  the  world 
that  can  not  look  on  decay  and  death  without  gloom.  They 
are  unchristianlike  and  unfit  for  a  Christian's  Sabbath-day 
musings."  She  looked  toward  the  hills.  The  mists  were 
rolling  up  to  their  summits  and  melting  away  in  the  light 
blue  sky  above  them.  The  sun  at  that  moment  came  out 
from  behind  the  one  solitary  cloud  that  was  visible.  The 
glow  of  exercise  by  this  time  began  to  animate  her.  Better 
and  happier  thoughts  flowed  in  upon  her  mind  and  chased 
away  the  foreboding  and  cheerless  feelings  which  had  for  a 
moment  oppressed  her. 

Nellie  was  no  mere  worshiper  of  nature.  She  found 
"  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  running  brooks,  sermons  in 
stones,  and  good  in  every  thing  ;"  but  the  Bible  furnished  her 
with  the  text  and  interpretation,  and  nature  afforded  only 
the  apt  illustrations.  Often  a  worshiper  iu  that  temple 


228  A    FLOWER     GATHERED 

which  is  domed  with  the  sky,  she  loved  still  more  the  place, 
however  humble  or  unadorned,  whether  the  mountain  side, 
the  wooden  meeting-house,  or  the  carved,  fretted,  and  costly 
edifice  of  stone,  where  Bible  truth  was  uttered,  the  Spirit's 
promised  grace  poured  down  in  power  and  demonstration, 
and  a  goodly  company  of  Christiau  hearts  joined  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  In  the  church  of  God,  she  heard  Christ's 
voice,  in  its  plain,  practical  utterances,  the  voice  of  a  Sav- 
iour from  sin  and  death,  without  which  the  teachings  and 
suggestions  of  the  sky  and  sea  and  earth  and  air,  are  myste- 
rious, incomprehensible,  misleading,  or  unsatisfactory. 

It  was  of  Christ  that  she  thought  now.  Of  His  resurrec- 
tion, of  His  ascension  to  heaven,  when  the  cloud  received 
Him  out  of  sight,  of  His  coming  again  in  the  clouds  of 
heaven,  of  the  bliss  and  glory  that  shall  follow,  and  of  the 
best  of  all  promises,  that  where  He  is  there  His  people  shall 
be  also.  "  And  so  shall  they  ever  be  with  the  Lord,"  she  re- 
peated to  herself.  Her  heart  exulted  in  the  hope.  Joyously 
she  gave  utterance  to  her  feelings,  and  sung,  in  a  voice  of 
uncommon  richness  and  cheeriness  of  tone,  this  Sabbath 

hymn: 

"  '  Forever  with  the  Lord !' 

Amen ;  so  let  it  be ; 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 
'T  is  immortality. 

"  Knowing  as  I  am  known, 

How  shall  I  love  that  word, 
And  oft  repeat  before  the  throne, 
'  Forever  with  the  Lord !' 

"  The  trump  of  final  doom 

"Will  speak  the  self-same  word, 
And  heaven's  voice  thunder  through  the  tomb, 
'Forever  with  the  Lord  I' 


BY     A     GENTLE     REAPER.  229 

"  The  tomb  shall  echo  deep 

That  death-awakening  sound ; 
The  saints  shall  hear  it  in  their  sleep, 
And  answer  from  the  ground. 

"  Then  upward  as  they  fly, 
That  resurrection-word 
Shall  be  their  shout  of  victory, 
'  Forever  with  the  Lord  !' 

"  That  resurrection-word, 
That  shout  of  victory, 
Once  more,  'For  ever  with  the  Lord!' 
Amen ;  so  let  it  be. " 

Nellie  sang  only  the  first  stanza  alone.  As  she  began 
the  next,  a  sweet  second  stole  gently  in,  and  a  full,  soft  bass 
followed.  She  turned  and  smiled  her  recognitions.  George 
and  Hetty  Hughes  had  called  to  inquire  after  the  invalid. 
The  hymn  was  hardly  finished  when  a  message  came  that 
Maria  asked  for  her.  First  escorting  George  and  Hetty  to 
the  oak-room,  she  sought  the  sick  chamber. 

When  Helen  looked  upon  the  face  of  her  sick  sister,  her 
heart  beat  with  a  strange  sensation  of  pain  and  of  pleasure. 
What  meant  that  change  ? — that  singular  sharpening  of  the 
features,  that  unusual  intelligence  of  the  eye,  that  sweet 
serenity  about  the  mouth  ?  With  difficulty  Helen  com- 
manded herself,  and  ki.ssed  the  face  that  smiled  upon  her 
with  an  expression  so  loving,  and  yet  startling. 

"  Who  was  that  singing  ?"  asked  Maria. 

u  Mr.  Hughes,  cousin  Hetty,  and  myself." 

"  It  was  very  pleasant.  It  seemed  to  come  from — oh,  so 
far  away !" 

Just  then  the  church  bell  for  morning  service  broke  the 
silence. 


230  A.    FLOWER     GATHERED 

"  What  is  that  ?"  asked  Maria,  with  a  start. 

"  The  bell  for  church.     It  is  Sunday." 

"  Church — Sunday,"  the  invalid  murmured,  with  half-ap- 
prehension. "  Will  Mr.  Poole  preach  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear  sister ;"  Nellie  was  weeping  now. 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Mr.  Poole  is  in  heaven,  Maria." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Nellie  thought  she 
was  sleeping.  Again  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  spoke  now 
with  less  languor.  "  Strange  how  bewildered  I  become.  I 
quite  forgot  that  Mr.  Poole  was  gone.  Yet,  oh,  how  often  I 
think  about  him.  I  was  not  afraid  of  him.  I  always  knew 
him,  you  know;  and  he  seemed  like  one  of  the  family, 
almost.  If  I  could  go  to  church  and  hear  him  preach  to- 
day ;  or,  if  he  could  only  come  here  and  talk  and  pray  with 
me,  would  it  not  be  pleasant  ?" 

"  How  would  you  like  Mr.  Hughes  to  come  and  pray  with 
you  ?"  Helen  asked. 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much.  Are  you  sure  he  has  not 
gone  r 

"  He  is  in  the  oak-room ;  I  will  send  for  him." 

"  Dear  Nellie,  let  Mrs.  Hughes  come  too,  and  you  three 
sing  another  hymn — here." 

The  same  messenger  that  called  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  was 
directed  to  summon  the  other  members  of  the  family.  One 
by  one  they  came  in.  Maria  selected  the  hymn : 

"  Thousands,  0  Lord  of  Hosts  I  this  day, 

Around  Thine  altar  meet ; 
And  tens  of  thousands  throng  to  pay 
Their  homage  at  Thy  feet. 


BY     A     GENTLE     REAPER.  231 

They  see  Thy  power  and  glory  there 

As  I  have  seen  them  too  ; 
They  read,  they  hear,  they  join  in  prayer, 

As  I  was  wont  to  do  ; 

They  sing  Thy  deeds,  as  I  have  sung, 

In  sweet  and  solemn  lays ; 
Were  I  among  them  my  glad  tongue 

Might  learn  new  themes  of  praise. 

For  Thou  art  in  their  midst  to  teach, 

When  on  Thy  name  they  call ; 
And  Thou  hast  blessings,  Lord,  for  each, 

Hast  blessings,  Lord,  for  all. 

I,  of  such  fellowship  bereft, 

In  spirit  turn  to  Thee ; 
Oh !  hast  Thou  not  a  blessing  left, 

A  blessing,  Lord,  for  me  ? 

I  may  not  to  Thy  courts  repair, 

Yet  here  Thou  surely  art ; 
Lord,  consecrate  a  house  of  prayer 

In  my  surrender'd  heart. 

To  faith  reveal  the  things  unseen, 

To  hope  the  joys  untold ; 
Let  love,  without  a  vail  between, 

Thy  glory  now  behold." 

The  prayer  which  followed  the  hymn  was  sweet  as  music, 
and  simple  and  earnest  as  a  child  would  have  uttered. 

"  How  pleasant !"  murmured  Maria,  after  an  interval  of 
silence,  in  which  she  had  lain  with  closed  eyes  and  clasped 
hands. 

"  What  is  pleasant,  Maria  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

"  To  think  of  God — of  Jesus — and  of  Heaven." 

Then  opening  her  eyes  and  turning  to  Mr.  Hughes,  she 
said, 


232  A     FLOWER     GATHERED 

"  Please,  sir,  tell  me  if  there  is  any  thing  I  ought  to  do. 
I  can  not  think  for  myself.  I  am  rapt  as  in  a  sweet  dream." 

George  repeated  these  words.  "  '  Behold,  I  stand  at  the 
door,  and  knock :  if  any  man  hear  My  voice,  and  open  the 
door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him  and  he 
with  Me.'  Listen  to  the  summons  of  the  Saviour — perhaps 
His  last.  Open  your  heart  and  receive  Him." 

"I  do.     Is  that  art.*" 

"That  is  art." 

"  All  for  such  a  sinner,  Mr.  Hughes  ?" 

" '  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sins 
of  the  world.'  '  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  hath 
eternal  life.'  What  more  assurance  does  the  sinner  need, 
that  if  he  have  received  Christ  into  his  heart,  he  has  with 
Christ  pardon,  life,  and  God's  blessing  forever?  Christ  is 
our  all  and  in  all." 

"  'All  and  in  all,' "  repeated  the  sick  girl.  "  Yes  :  I  feel 
it.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hughes,  you  have  done  me  good." 

"Dear  sister,"  said  Nellie,  after  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  had 
quietly  left  the  room — and  the  tearful  family  stood  gazing 
on  that  placid  and  happy  face — "  do  you  know  how  very  ill 
you  are  ?" 

There  was  a  struggle — perhaps  with  a  moment's  pain  at 
the  thought  of  separation,  perhaps  with  the  natural  re- 
luctance to  speak  freely  of  herself — and  then  she  answered, 
plaintively  but  firmly. 

"  Yes,  Nellie — yes,  father,  mother  and  all,  I  do.  I  have 
been  a  useless  member  of  the  family.  I  am  going  where -I 
shall  be  fitted  to  serve  God  night  and  day.  I  long  for  what 
I  never  had,  the  ability  to  do  something — to  be  of  some  use." 
She  was  interrupted  by  a  sigh.  It  came  from  her  mother. 


BY     A     GENTLE     REAPER.  233 

"  Dear  ma',"  she  said,  "  you  are  more  useful  in  your  sweet, 
quiet  way,  than  you  think  for :  and  such  as  we  are,  dear 
mother,  may  be  willing  to  die  for  Christ,  if  we  can  not  speak 
for  Him.  I  love  you  all,"  she  continued,  looking  round  up- 
on the  others,  "  but  I  love  the  Saviour  more.  Nellie,  do  you 
tell  them,  when  I  am  gone,  what  you  know  I  would  like  to, 
if  I  could.  Thank  them,  Nellie,  for  their  kindness  to  me  : 
thank  father,  mother  and  all :  none  but  Jesus  can  bless  you, 
dear  Nellie,  for  all  the  good,  only  He  knows  of,  that  you 
have  done  me." 

After  these  words  she  said  little.  Sometimes  she  spoke  a 
word,  as  if  in  meditation  on  some  holy  subject,  or  as  if  she 
saw  in  vision  the  object  of  the  Christian's  hope — the  Heaven- 
ly inheritance.  But  she  grew  weaker  and  feebler  every  mo- 
ment :  she  slept  much :  and  ere  the  sun  set  on  the  Sabbath 
day,  she  was  with  the  Lord  Jesus. 


XXV. 

an&  1 


"There  Is  a  bad  way  of  wilful  swallowing  of  a  temptation  and  not  digesting  It, 
or  laying  it  out  of  memory  without  any  victoriousness  of  faith ;  the  Lord,  who 
forbids  fainting,  forbids  also  despising."— SAMPEL  EUTILERPORD. 


E  first  death  in  a  family — how  sensitively  is  it  felt ;  how 
does  it  unite  hearts,  open  confidences,  strengthen  love, 
give  a  touching  gentleness  to  every  voice,  lend  pathos  to 
every — even  the  commonest  act  of  courtesy,  and  set  every 
nerve  of  the  household  circle  vibrating  at  the  least  provoca- 
tion with  trembling  tenderness.  The  members  of  the  house- 
hold are  subdued  into  docility,  and  then,  if  ever,  are  willing 
to  listen  to  the  instructions  and  consolations  of  the  Christian 
faith.  Then  the  pastor  is  regarded  as  no  intruder  into  the 
domestic  circle  that  closes  to  itself  every  other  avenue  of 
access.  The  ear  is  open  to  his  words,  the  hand  returns  a 
warmer  pressure  to  his  salutation,  and  the  eye  is  moistened  at 
his  kind  and  holy  solicitude.  Let  the  pastor  be  himself  pos- 
sessed of  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  and  his  visits  to  the  house 
of  mourning  will  produce  Gospel  fruits. 

But  no  such  pastor  came  to  Truro.  Stiff,  unpliant  and 
coarse,  even  in  his  sympathies,  the  minister  of  Cedarville 
could  not  melt  into  the  transient  tenderness  of  that  sorrow- 
ful home.  He  was  bent  on  being  faithful ;  he  was  pertina- 


LIGHT     SORROWS,     ETC.  235 

cious  in  improving  the  event  of  death ;  and  he  was  almost 
fierce  in  his  assaults  on  each  separate  member  of  the  family. 
He  did  not  weep  with  those  that  wept,  but  he  warned,  ex- 
horted, and  lectured  them.  Robert,  Theresa,  and  Gracie 
Darling  (Mrs.  Darling  was  prevented  by  sickness  from  obey- 
ing the  summons  to  Truro),  stared  at  the  pastor,  as  if  he 
were  a  new  species  of  the  clerical  family.  Harry  laughed  at 
him ;  Mrs.  Lee  felt  uncomfortable,  Miss  Brown  indignant,  and 
Nellie  sorrowful,  in  his  presence.  Mr.  Lee  waved  him  off 
with  polite  adroitness,  and  Rupert  after  one  rencounter,  ever 
after  turned  his  back  upon  him,  not  so  much  as  saving  his 
own  reputation  for  gentlemanly  deportment. 

What  might  not  Mr.  Poole  with  his  childlike  heart  and 
godly  sincerity  and  the  needful  blessing,  have  done  for 
Truro,  in  these  first  days  of  sensibility  and  sadness?  But 
they  wore  away  without  improvement. 

One  by  one,  the  members  of  the  family  escaped  from  the 
transitory  influence  of  the  passing  shadow;  all  but  Nellie 
and  Mrs.  Lee.  Nellie  could  not  forget  the  sister  whom  she 
had  so  long  prayed  for  and  so  recently  taken  sweet  counsel 
with ;  and  the  mother's  heart  could  never  recover  from  its 
first  loss — the  loss  too  of  one  with  whose  quiet  disposition 
there  had  ever  been  an  unspoken  sympathy.  The  rest  could 
forget,  and  did.  Mr.  Lee  returned  to  his  books  and  his  agri- 
cultural experiments.  Rupert  renewed  his  sporting  propen- 
sities. Harry  in  business,  and  Robert  in  pleasure,  lost  the 
remembrance  of  the  sad  visit  to  the  homestead.  And  when 
the  summer  came,  and  with  it  the  sisters  and  their  families, 
one  could  hardly  recognize  a  trace  of  the  sorrow  which  was 
startled  into  ephemeral  existence  by  the  intelligence  that  a 
sister  slept  with  the  dead  ;  and  of  which,  purple  flowers  and 


236  LIGHT     SORROWS 

lilac  trimmings  hardly  suggested  a  remembrance,  under  the 
guise  or  disguise  of  mourning  attire. 

The  uncongeniality  of  the  village  pastor  was  felt  more  and 
more.  The  calls  of  his  officious  wife  upon  the  visitors  at 
Truro,  were  sparsely  and  formally  returned.  The  family  pew 
at  church  had  often  now  no  other  occupants  than  Mrs.  Lee 
and  Nellie.  Mr.  Lee  and  his  other  children,  and  even  sen- 
sible Miss  Brown,  satisfied  their  consciences  that  it  was  right 
to  ride  ten  miles  to  hear  a  minister  of  repute  in  the  town  of 
Montgomery,  rather  than  one  mile  to  attend  a  service  which 
did  not  exactly  suit  their  taste.  For  the  sake  of  sacred  casu- 
istry let  us  enter  a  caveat  against  their  decision. 

Truro  was  more  than  usually  gay  this  summer.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  special  effort  to  gather  together  the  liveliest 
and  most  thoughtless  visitors.  The  house  was  full.  Almost 
daily  there  were  new  arrivals  and  departures,  and  each  ac- 
cession was  celebrated  by  some  new  scheme  of  amusement. 
Even  Mr.  Lee  was  carried  away  in  the  flood-tide  of  gayety. 
His  study  was  exchanged,  of  afternoons  and  evenings,  for  the 
bustle  of  the  parlors,  and  he  was  ready  among  the  foremost 
for  all  excursions  to  mountain  tops,  water-falls,  or  pic-nic  val- 
leys, near  and  remote.  Nellie  wondered  at  him,  and  regret- 
ted her  personal  loss  in  the  separation  which  was  effected  be- 
tween her  father  and  herself. 

Nellie  fell  back  into  her  old  place  in  the  household,  being 
left  by  all,  even  her  father,  to  take  care  of  herself  as  she 
pleased.  No  longer  a  child,  though  not  arrived  at  the  time 
of  "  coming  out,"  she  began  to  comprehend  her  own  position 
and  to  examine  with  some  curious  interest  the  charactei-s 
and  peculiarities  of  these  brothers  and  sisters  of  hers.  How 
different  were  the  motives  and  aims  of  their  liv^s  from  her 


AND"   HEAVY     PLEASURES.  237 

own,  if  indeed  they  (and  this  puzzled  her)  had  any  motives 
and  aims.  They  were  perpetually  busied,  to  the  weariness 
of  mind  and  body,  with  what  seemed  to  Nellie  the  veriest 
trifles.  This  was  especially  true  of  her  two  sisters.  They 
were  still,  as  they  had  ever  been,  wonderfully  alike.  Char- 
lotte Gay  lord  had  the  peculiar  southern  languor  of  manner, 
and  Emma  Darling  the  erect,  self-conscious  carriage  of  the 
New  York  belle.  Both  were  elegant  women  :  both  showed, 
and  showed  too  plainly,  that  they  were  used  to  admiration 
and  that  they  enjoyed  it :  both  made  a  business  of  pleasure 
and  consumed  themselves  with  cares  and  anxieties  about 
dress  and  nonsense.  The  taste  and  richness  of  their  ward- 
robes Nellie  could  admire :  but  how  they  could  spend  so 
much  time  in  the  mere  getting  up  of  a  wardrobe  and  in 
talking  about  it  after  it  was  got  up,  Nellie  could  only  admire 
about.  One  day,  after  listening  for  a  long  time  to  a  conver- 
sation about  leghorns,  laces,  jewelry  and  Parisian  milliners 
and  mantua-makers,  interspersed  with  many  names  of  fashion- 
able celebrity,  in  the  course  of  which  Nellie  learned  that 
one  of  the  sisters  had  a  dozen  expensive  hats  the  year  pre- 
vious, and  the  other  an  endless  number  and  variety  of  man- 
tles, and  that  neither  thought  a  thousand  dollars  an  extrava- 
gant price  for  a  real  India  shawl — Nellie  resolved  to  test  the 
character  of  their  religious  sentiments. 

"Sister  Charlotte,"  she  began,  "is  your  plantation  very 
pretty  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  you  must  come  and  see  it  for  yourself.  I 
suppose  you  can  not,  though,  till  you  are  through  with  Miss 
Brown." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  plantation  once.  Have  you  many 
neighbors  ?" 


£88  LIGHT     SORROWS 

"  None  nearer  than  three  miles,  but  plenty  within  ten  and 
twelve  miles.  We  think  little  of  riding  twice  as  far;  out 
southern  horses  are  so  perfectly  broken,  and  so  easy  in  theii 
paces.  But  as  we  pass  a  part  of  our  winters  in  New  Orleans 
and  all  our  summers  at  the  north,  a  little  quietness  between 
whiles  on  the  plantation  is  not  unpleasant." 

"  How  near  is  your  church  f ' 

"  What,  the  country  church  ?  It  is  about  six  miles  from 
our  place.  I  wish  it  was  nearer,  it  fatigues  one  to  sit  through 
the  service  after  a  long  ride :  I  can  not  attend  as  often  as  I 
would  wish." 

"  What  kind  of  a  minister  have  you  ?" 

"  He  is  a  dear,  good  man :  and  so  gentlemanly.  He  often 
dines  with  us  on  Sunday.  Mr.  Gaylord  likes  to  have  him  to 
talk  away  the  afternoon.  Sunday  is  so  tedious  for  gentle- 
men who  are  not  literary  and  are  too  conscientious  for  cards 
or  gunning." 

"  Has  your  minister  only  one  service  on  Sunday  ?'' 

"  He  occasionally  preaches  an  afternoon  sermon  to  the 
servants  on  some  of  the  plantations." 

"Our  northern  ministers  preach  too  much,"  Mrs.  Oracle 
Darling  exclaimed.  "Dear  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  Parsons  is 
quite  witty  about  it.  He  says  they  preach  down  all  they 
preach  up." 

"  Is  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  Parsons  your  pastor,  sister  Emma?" 
Nellie  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  dear." 

"  Does  he  visit  you  often  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  attends  all  my  soirees,  and  comes  to  din- 
ner whenever  he  is  invited.  He  decline?  invitations  to  large 


AND     HEAVY     PLEASURES.  239 

parties  and  balls.  He  says  the  piety  of  the  age  is  not  equal 
to  the  holy  use  of  such  festivities." 

"  Are  his  visits  like  those  we  used  to  have  at  Truro  from 
Mr.  Poole  ?"  asked  Nellie,  with  a  mischievous  twinkle  in  her 
eye. 

"  Like  Mr.  Poole's  visits !  How  many  questions  you  do 
ask.  Of  course  not.  Such  visits  would  not  be  proper  in  the 
city.  He  did  pay  me  one  visit  though,  very  much  like  dear 
Mr.  Poole's.  He  happened  to  call  just  after  Maria's  death 
and  found  me  sick  and  in  deplorable  spirits :  and  he  com- 
forted me  so  sweetly  and  talked  so  beautifully.  He  quoted 
that  sentiment  of  one  of  the  Fathers,  I  suppose  it  is,  he  is 
very  fond  of  the  Fathers.  '  Moderate  lamentation  is  the  right 
of  the  dead,  excessive  grief  the  enemy  to  the  living.' " 

"  'Seems  to  me,"  said  Nellie,  smiling,  "  the  Father  that  said 
that,  belonged  to  patristic  dramatists  and  not  to  patristic 
theologians." 

"  How  much  reason  we  have,  to  rejoice,"  interrupted 
Charlotte,  "  that  dear  Maria  was  so  devotedly  pious." 

"  Devotedly  pious,"  repeated  Nellie  to  herself,  reflectively. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered  Emma.  "  Mr.  Parsons  said  that 
our  loss  was  her  gain." 

Nellie  was  glad  to  escape  at  this  point  from  a  conversa- 
tion she  had  herself  begun :  and  it  was  sometime  before  she 
could  recover  her  ordinary  cheerfulness  :  it  was  so  sorrowful 
that  two  intelligent,  baptized  women  should  be  so  thoroughly 
unchristian. 

Nellie  was  no  less  a  mystery  to  her  two  sisters  than  they 
were  to  her.  One  day,  as  the  two  were  passing  Nellie's 
room,  they  were  attracted  to  a  closer  inspection.  It  was  the 
little  room  that  opened  by  a  French  window  over  the  porch 


240  LIGHT    SOB  HOWS 

on  the  southern  side  of  the  house.  Nellie  used  it  as  a  bou- 
doir and  carefully  kept  the  door  shut  against  intruders  :  but 
now,  unluckily,  it  was  open,  and  the  glimpse  afforded  was  too 
inviting  to  be  resisted.  So  the  two  sisters  walked  in  and 
seated  themselves  on  a  dimity-covered  couch.  The  little 
balcony  over  the  porch  was  covered  with  flowers :  yellow 
stone-crop  and  delicate  Mexican  and  Cyprus  vines  trailed 
down  from  the  corner  posts,  and  the  sides  were  latticed  with 
sweet  briars  and  honeysuckles  in  full  bloom.  Within  the 
room  were  vases  filled  with  the  choicest  and  most  deli- 
cate plants.  Two  canaries,  presents  from  Mr.  Sickles  and 
such  as  he  only  could  select,  hung  on  either  side  of  the  win- 
dow. A  statuette  of  the  Graces  adorned  one  corner ;  and  in 
another,  stood  on  a  marble  pedestal  a  miniature  clock,  its 
frame  curiously  fashioned  in  the  form  of  a  sun-dial.  An  an- 
tique cabinet  and  writing  desk,  purchased  by  brother  Norton 
in  Italy,  stood  against  the  wall  near  the  window,  and  op- 
posite to  it  an  exquisite  rose-wood  book-case.  In  the  middle 
of  the  room  was  a  table — on  which  was  a  flower-press,  a 
costly  microscope,  a  case  of  drawing  materials,  and  various 
pamphlets :  and  by  the  table  a  chair,  so  light  that  a  child 
could  lift  it,  so  comfortable  that  any  one  could  sleep  in  it, 
and  so  exquisitely  wrought  of  colored  straws  that  a  fairy 
might  have  woven  it  This  last  was  a  present  from  cousin 
Hetty  Hughes :  Nellie  accused  her  of  having  stolen  it  from 
Queen  Mab's  bower. 

The  sisters  examined  the  room  and  its  furniture  with  crit- 
ical curiosity. 

"  The  child  has  taste  ;  an  eye  for  elegance  and  for  comfort 
too,"  Emma  remarked. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  answered   Charlotte.     "  What  a  singular 


AND     HEAVY     PLEASURES.  241 

air  of  cheerfulness  and  repose,  beauty  and  utility  !  just  like 
herself.  She  is  a  singular  child,  Emma,  I  am  afraid  a  little 
eccentric,  but  she  will  get  over  that." 

"  She  has  beauty,"  remarked  Emma. 

"  Yes,  but  almost  too  rosy,  and  she  laughs  too  much." 

"  What  a  sensation  she  will  make  when  she  comes  out !" 
said  Emma,  rising  to  examine  the  library.  The  volumes 
were  not  numerous.  "  What  a  queer  collection  of  books  !" 
she  exclaimed.  "  Bunyan's  works,  Baxter's,  volumes  of  tracts, 
Faerie  Queene,  Shakspeare,  George  Herbert,  Jeremy  Taylor, 
Dickens,  Crabbe's  tales,  Methodist  hymns,  Wordsworth — " 

"Here,"  interrupted  Charlotte,  who  was  turning  over 
the  pamphlets  on  the  table,  "  is  a  pile  of  missionary  journals 
— and  here  is  another  of  congressional  speeches  and  de- 
bates." 

"  And  here,"  replied  Emma,  "  is  a  whole  shelf  of  mission- 
ary books,  I  take  them  to  be.  Henry  Martyn,  Schwartz, 
Missions  in  Africa,  Sandwich  Islands,  India,  Mrs.  Judson, 
Brainard,  Harriet  Newell." 

"  What  can  the  child  be  doing  with  them :  surely  she  can 
not  read  them  !"  said  Chalotte  languidly,  tired  at  the  very 
thought  of  such  light  reading. 

"  They  would  make  her  dolorous  if  she  did,"  answered 
Emma. 

"  Well."  the  sister  replied,  "  a  little  touch  of  melancholy 
would  become  her.  She  is  far  enough  from  it  now  ?"  And 
both  laughing,  left  the  room. 

That  night,  the  little  desk  which  had  resisted  the  inquisi- 
tive fingers  of  the  sisters,  was  opened  by  Nellie  herself,  and 
on  a  new  page  she  made  a  new  entry. 

"  Why  am  I  never  so  much  alone  as  when  surrounded 

11 


242  LIGHT     SORROWS,     ETC. 

by  sisters  and  brothers  ?  Are  they  indifferent  to  me,  or  I  tc 
them  ?  Where  are  the  sympathies  which  should  flow  freely 
between  us  ?  They  are  all  kind  and  affectionate  ;  and  I 
must  love  them  and — bear  with  them.  O  that  He,  who 
maketh  His  children  to  differ  from  the  world,  would  make; 
them  His  children !  Even  dear  Harry — once  we  thought 
and  felt  alike — seems  to  have  grown  unlike  me.  He  is  so 
engrossed  with  business.  Father  says  he  will  make  a 
thorough  merchant.  Is  he  in  the  way  to  lay  up  treasure 
above  ?  Dear  father !  he  shuns  those  pleasant  Sunday  even- 
ing talks  we  used  to  have.  Strange  that  this  year,  while 
Maria's  death  is  fresh  in  memory,  he  should  forsake  church 
as  he  has  never  done  in  all  his  life  !  Dear,  indulgent  father. 
Oh  that  he — And  mother,  she  seems  to  like  to  have  me 
with  her  in  her  little  room ;  and  she  so  quiet,  and  I  so 
noisy.  I  do  long  to  be  a  comfort  and  happiness  to  father 
and  mother." 


XXVI. 

Sum  Bribing  pants  an&  Pore  Merits. 

"  Remember  well  what  love  and  age  advise ; 
A  qniet  rector  is  a  parish  prize, 
"Who  in  his  learning  has  a  decent  pride ; 
Who  to  his  people  is  a  gentle  guide ; 
Who  only  hints  at  failings  that  he  sees ; 
Who  loves  his  glebe,  his  patron,  and  his  ease." 

GEORGE  CT.ABBE 

rP  HE  tannery  in  these  days  was  in  the  sun-light.  George 
-  and  Hetty  Hughes  had  more  and  more  reason  to  believe 
that  they  were,  as  George  had  said,  "  made  for  each  other." 
True  love  and  true  happiness  are  never  far  apart. 

George  had  not  attended  the  chemical  lectures  in  vain. 
They  had  been  of  more  practical  service  to  him  than  ever 
Hetty's  French  lessons  had  to  her.  His  improvements  in 
the  methods  of  tanning,  and  his  inventions  in  the  ways  of 
dressing  leather,  had  brought  wealth  into  his  possession. 
The  "  tannery,"  strictly  speaking,  was  removed  from  the 
vicinity  of  the  house,  to  that  of  the  grist-mill  in  the  valley 
below,  where  it  was  surrounded  with  tall  factories  of  patent 
and  enameled  leather,  and  quite  a  village  of  mechanics'  and 
laborers'  dwellings.  „ 

George  persisted  in  calling  his  house  "  The  Tannery."  He 
loved  the  association  with  the  name,  and,  perhaps,  regarded 
it  with  that  pride  with  which  the  self-made  man  exhibits  the 


244  SOME     THRIVING     PLANTS, 

evidences  of  his  once  humble  estate.  The  Tannery,  neverthe- 
less, by  sundry  and  tasteful  additions,  had  grown  to  be  the 
largest  and  most  beautiful  residence  in  the  village ;  and  Mr. 
George  Hughes  himself  was,  next  to  Robert  Lee,  Esq.,  the 
most  influential  man  in  the  county — rendered  so  not  merely 
by  the  power  of  money,  but  by  the  higher  power  of  intelli- 
gence and  integrity.  Miss  Brown,  alone,  with  all  her 
thorough  respect  for  its  inmates,  never  forgot  that  there  was 
some  condescension  in  her  visits  to  the  Tannery. 

One  only  sorrow  had  fallen  on  George  and  Hetty  Hughes. 
Little  George,  their  second  child,  was  taken  from  them. 
But  they  despised  not  the  chastening  of  the  Lord,  nor  fainted 
when  they  were  rebuked  of  Him ;  they  kissed  the  rod,  and 
blessed  the  name  of  the  Lord  who  gave  and  who  took  away. 
No  sorrow  can  blight  the  peace  and  joy  of  trustful  hearts. 

Little  Hetty,  their  oldest  child,  was  now  their  only  one, 
and  the  darling  pet  of  Nellie  Lee.  All  that  the  mother  had 
been  to  Nellie,  Nellie  was  to  the  daughter — her  Sabbath- 
school  teacher,  her  play-mate,  her  counsellor,  and  her  friend. 
By  Nellie's  management,  Hetty  became  her  companion  in 
the  Truro  school-room.  Miss  Brown  was  not  averse  to.  the 
instruction  of  the  new  pupil.  Nellie  became  herself  a 
teacher — Hetty's  only  teacher  in  drawing  and  music — and 
learned  much  from  the  quick  and  thoughtful  little  scholar. 
It  was  an  accession  to  the  school-room  in  which  all  parties 
were  benefited,  and  infused  vivacity  into  the  routine  which 
had  sometimes  grown  stale  and  insipid  when  Nellie  was  the 
only  learner. 

Soon  after  Maria's  death,  there  was  still  another  addition 
to  the  school-room.  Theresa  Lee  was  seized  with  a  sudden 
longing  to  re-visit  Europe  ;  perhaps,  because  she  could  not, 


AND     MORE     WEEDS.  245 

after  so  recent  an  affliction  in  her  husband's  family,  plunge 
into  the  gayeties  of  the  world  ;  and  Truro,  where  she  would 
be  expected  to  spend  her  summer,  always  too  quiet  for  her 
taste,  now  wore  an  air  of  melancholy.  However  that  was, 
Robert  and  she  sailed  away,  and  left  their  son  Robert  and 
his  tutor,  Monsieur  Maillart,  at  Truro.  There  was  now  a 
new  arrangement  of  classes  and  studies.  Miss  Brown  and 
Nellie  became  class-mates  in  the  modern  languages,  and 
Hetty  and  Robert  in  English  and  French.  Miss  Brown  was 
the  teacher  in  all  English  branches,  Monsieur  confined  him- 

O  ' 

self  to  the  languages,  ancient  and  modern.  Never  was  there 
a  busier  and  happier  school-room,  for  never  were  there  more 
willing  and  interested  scholars,  and  more  able  and  faithful 
teachers. 

In  her  studies,  her  care  of  the  two  children,  her  rambles 
with  them  for  pleasure  through  the  woods,  her  excursions 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  after  botanical  and  geological 
specimens,  in  which  sciences  George  had  become  no  indiffer- 
ent instructor,  in  her  garden,  and  in  her  rides  on  horse-back 
with  Robert  or  Caesar  now  for  an  escort  (her  father  seldom 
gave  her  that  pleasure),  Nellie  was  independent  of  the  other 
members  of  the  family  for  her  enjoyment  of  life.  Her  only 
cause  for  sadness  was  the  growing  spirit  of  irreligion  in  the 
household  and  the  comfortlessness  of  going  to  church  with 
no  one  but  her  mother  for  a  companion  in  the  large  empty 
pew. 

The  Truro  pew  was  not  the  only  one  in  Cedarville  church 
that  showed  vacant  seats.  In  old  times  the  church  was  full 
at  Sunday-morning  worship  ;  every  body  went.  Even  Tim 
Whittaker,  tavern-keeper,  closed  his  bar  while  "  church  was 
in ;"  and  a  proud  man  he  was,  when  he  could  show  some 


246  SOME     THRIVING     PLANTS, 

chance  stranger,  spending  Sunday  in  the  village,  up  the  aisle 
to  his  own  pew,  and  with  the  dignified  air  of  a  publican  take 
his  own  seat  at  the  head  of  it.  Sieve  Ball,  the  blacksmith, 
too,  always  attended  divine  service,  and  if  he  went  from  the 
church  to  the  tavern,  he  never  staid  there  long,  and  talked, 
while  he  did  stay,  of  the  sermon.  But  now  the  bar  was 
never  closed.  Tim  Whittaker  donned  his  Sunday-suit  only 
at  funerals.  Steve  Ball  too  often  forgot,  while  the  sermon 
was  overlong  in  the  church,  that  his  potations  were  over 
many  at  the  tavern. 

The  revival  had  not  realized  every  hope  the  sanguine 
Graves  indulged.  The  large  accession  to  the  number  of 
communicants  was  not  apparent  by  any  extraordinary  in- 
crease of  the  fruits  of  godliness  in  the  church,  or  in  the  vil- 
lage. It  is  doubtful  if  there  was  more  vigor  in  the  Christian 
character  of  the  villagers  than  in  the  days  of  good  Mr.  Poole, 
when  affairs  moved  so  quietly  that  Mr.  Graves  pronounced 
the  church  dead,  and  even  the  revivals  but  slumberous 
awakenings  from  deeper  sleep.  But  Mr.  Graves  would  have 
spoken  as  wisely  if  he  had  pronounced  'the  grass  dead,  be- 
cause he  could  not  hear  it  grow.  The  grass  nevertheless, 
would  be  fresh  and  verdant,  as  was  the  religious  aspect  of 
Cedarville  under  the  ministrations  of  Mr.  Poole. 

In  old  times,  there  had  been  a  delusive  notion  that  there 
were  in  Cedarville  no  arrant  scapegraces.  Wickedness  was 
not  flagrant  there.  Some  singular  restraint  held  in  check 
the  passions  of  the  vicious.  The  very  tavern  had  a  good 
moral  character — as  good  as  a  tavern  could  have.  It  kept 
methodical  hours,  and  seldom  suffered  idle  loiterers  to  gar- 
nish its  door-steps.  Sometimes,  indeed,  on  election-days  foi 
instance,  frolics  would  happen.  At  such  times,  a  sad,  won- 


AND     MORE     WEEDS.  247 

dering  whisper,  like  the  murmuring  ripples  of  the  river  that 
tell  tales  of  a  storm  at  sea,  would  steal  about  the  village^  tell- 
ing tales  of  the  tavern,  and  Mr.  Poole  would  be  detected,  by 
curious  eyes,  on  cautious  visits  to  the  abodes  of  certain 
young  men,  who  would  be  eyed  askance  by  the  whole  con- 
gregation on  the  next  Sunday,  and  would  look  very  much 
ashamed  of  themselves. 

But  matters  were  not  so  now.  The  tavern  lost  its  sedate- 
ness,  and  its  frequenters  their  propriety.  Tim  Whittaker's 
premises  were  haunted,  day  and  night,  by  a  godless  set  of 
"  old  covies"  and  "  fast  young  blades,"  as  they  called  them- 
selves. Mr.  Stryker  called  them,  with  equal  propriety,  "  old 
sots,"  and  "  young  topers." 

The  morality  of  Cedarville  suffered  general  deterioration. 
There  was  more  gossiping  among  the  old,  and  frolicking 
among  the  young  "  folks,"  than  had  ever  been  known.  The 
staid  sobriety  and  severe  simplicity  of  ancient  habits  and 
manners,  suffered  from  the  incursion  of  new  modes  and  a 
rage  for  the  last  fashions.  Ribbons  no  longer  descended 
from  grandmothers  to  granddaughters,  but  were  bought  new 
by  special  messengers,  at  the  town  of  Montgomery,  or  were 
supplanted  by  flowers,  feathers,  and  ornamental  appendages, 
which  made  the  assembled  congregation  in  the  church  look 
as  gay  as  a  poppy  bed. 

We  have  no  idea  of  imputing  these  changes  to  the  fault 
of  the  Cedarville  minister.  There  was  an  influence  wanting 
which  once  had  powerfully  pervaded  the  community ;  an  in- 
fluence which  Mr.  Stryker,  however  faithful  and  earnest, 
never  could,  under  any  circumstances,  exert ;  the  influence 
which  an  humble,  patient,  gentle,  prayerful,  affectionate,  and 
tireless  pastor  alone  can  exert. 


248  SOME     THRIVI-NG     PLANTS, 

Mr.  Poole's  goodness,  and  unobtrusive  fidelity  had  in- 
fused his  own  spirit  into  the  hearts  of  the  people,  and  were 
felt  every  where,  and  restrained  when  they  did  not  correct 
Mr.  Stryker's  violent  activity  only  resulted  in  great  and  occa- 
sional dttterb&aoes  of  the  moral  forces,  and  gained  for  itself 
no  permanent  or  extensive  sway  over  the  hearts  and  con- 
sciences of  l::s  parishioners. 

But  there  was  fault  in  Mr.  Stryker,  too.  He  suffered  his 
attention  and  labors  to  be  distracted  from  what  should  have 
been  the  one  object  of  his  life — the  spiritual  care  of  the  flock. 
Other  thoughts  and  anxieties  filled  his  mind.  He  did  not 
preach  from  house  to  house,  and  reprove,  rebuke,  and  exhort 
with  meekness,  long-suffering,  and  doctrine,  the  individual 
members  of  his  charge.  He  satisfied  himself  with  his  Sun- 
day performances,  and  such  extraordinary  efforts  as  seasons 
of  peculiar  interest  might  demand ;  and,  as  he  became  less 
faithful  in  private,  he  grew  more  severe  in  public.  His  ser- 
mons lost  the  merit  of  his  early  compositions,  in  regard  to 
careful  preparation  and  intellectual  ability,  and  became  mere 
denunciations,  sometimes  of  a  character  too  personal,  against 
the  sins  and  failings  of  the  times. 

The  fact  was,  Mr.  Stryker  was  engrossed  with  his  school. 
The  eye  that  perpetually  glanced  at  the  pews  in  the  gallery, 
filled  with  restless  boys,  showed  whore  the  thoughts  of  the 
preacher  were. 

Those  boys  !  how  they  annoyed  Nellie.  Restless  spirits  in 
church  and  out  of  it;  wandering  about  the  village  at  the 
very  hours  when  she  loved  to  walk  its  grass-grown  street ; 
scouring  the  country  around,  invading  even  the  seclusion  of 
Truro  ;  and  despoiling  the  parsonage  of  its  beauty. 

The  parsonage  was  indeed  changed.     The  flower-beds  had 


AND     MORE     WEEDS.  249 

disappeared.  Dead  trees  were  not  removed  ;  living  ones 
were  trimmed  to  the  peril  of  life,  that  Mrs.  Stryker  might 
"  see  the  world,"  and  that  Mr.  Stryker's  horse  and  cows 
might  have  grass  to  eat.  The  grove  that  once  overshadowed 
the  study,  was  cut  down  to  afford  the  forty  boys  ("forty 
thieves"  Rupert  called  them,  for  they  helped  themselves  to 
the  fruits  of  all  orchards),  a  play -ground  under  the  immediate 
eye  of  their  instructor  ;,  no  grass  could  grow  there.  Behind 
the  naked  play-ground,  a  long,  ugly  edifice,  without  so  much 
ornament  as  a  cornice,  with  two  straight  rows  of  windows  in 
its  two  stories,  and  one  little,  unproportioned  chimney,  at 
the  furthest  end,  took  from  the  parsonage  the  last  claim  to 
grace  and  elegance.  To  look  at  that  school-house,  was  to  see 
what  kind  of  an  education  it  afforded  ;  an  education  of  tasks 
and  chastisements,  of  lessons  to  be  learned  by  rote,  and  rules 
to  be  obeyed  with  servility.  No  great  thought,  no  large 
affection,  no  generous  impulse  could  be  fostered  in  those 
board  barracks.  They  were  not  built  with  any  such  view. 
Were  they  built  in  view  of  aught  but  Mr.  Stryker's  purse  ? 

This  question  was  none  of  Nellie  Lee's  asking.  She  never 
thought  about  it.  She  could  hardly  have  told  how  Bedmin- 
ster  parsonage  looked  now-a-days,  for  she  seldom  turned  her 
eye  thitherward.  She  preferred  watching  for  the  first  and 
last  glimpse  of  the  new  marble  obelisk  in  the  church-yard 
opposite,  that  towered  conspicuously  above  the  time-worn 
memorials  of  her  grandfathers  and  grandmothers. 


11* 


XXVII. 

tillage  fmnbs,  an&  Ine*p£ttefo  Quests. 


'  Enjoy  the  Spring  of  Love  and  Youth, 
To  some  good  angel  leave  the  rest ; 
For  Time  will  teach  thee  soon  the  truth, 
There  are  no  birds  In  last  year's  nest." 

H.  W.  LONGFELLOW. 


T  ATE  in  the  afternoon  of  one  of  the  first  days  of  Septem- 
-^  ber,  Helen  was  returning  from  a  solitary  ride ;  solitary 
but  for  Caesar,  who  trotted  at  a  respectable  distance  behind 
her.  She  had  compassed  the  village  by  a  circuitous  route, 
and  entered  its  one  long  street  at  its  northern  extremity,  just 
beyond  the  habitation  of  James  Stryker,  fashionable  boot  and 
shoemaker.  The  village  and  the  valley  below  were  in  the 
shadow  of  the  western  hills,  but  the  sun  shone  over  them 
upon  the  glittering  bosom  of  the  distant  river,  and  lighted  up 
the  mountains  beyond  the  river  as  with  a  glow  of  fire.  The 
play  of  light  and  shadow  was  exquisite  ;  the  whole  picture 
was  beautiful  and  suggestive.  Had  Helen  been  of  a  pensive 
disposition,  that  twilight  view,  looking  out  from  surrounding 
gloom  to  distant  brightness,  as  if  happiness  were  far  off, 
and  sorrow  impending,  would  have  made  her  sad :  as  it  was, 
it  only  made  her  thoughtful.  She  no  longer  gave  herself  up 
to  the  enjoyment  of  her  ride,  but  cantered  slowly  on  through 
the  village,  with  an  observing  eye,  making  mental  comments 


VILLAGE     FRIENDS,     ETC.  251 

on  all  she  saw.  The  first  thing  she  remarked  was,  that  Mr. 
James  Stryker,  fashionable  boot  and  shoemaker,  had  im- 
proved the  appearance  of  his  house,  by  a  generous  coat  of 
white  paint,  not  only  on  the  front,  but  all  around,  by  a  new 
paling  fence,  and  by  a  clearing  out  of  rubbish  from  the  little 
door-yard.  Mr.  Stryker  himself,  and  also  Mrs.  Stryker,  were 
just  leaving  the  house  with  their  best  attire  on :  probably 
they  intended  a  visit  to  their  son.  The  tavern  came  next. 
Loud  and  coarse  laughter  issued  from  the  corner  room  :  and 
a  poor  ragged  inebriate  sat  on  the  lowermost  step  of  the 
piazza.  Helen  put  her  horse  on  a  brisker  amble,  and  did  not 
draw  the  rein  till  she  was  beyond  sight  and  hearing.  Deacon 
Hayes'  house  and  farm  looked,  as  ever,  the  perfection  of 
neatness  and  good  management.  William,  who  was  at  this 
moment  watering  the  horses,  and  Sarah,  who  was  milking 
(he  cows  with  the  assistance  of  some  of  the  men  and  the 
hired  girl,  were  worthy  children  of  such  a  father :  they  bowed 
pleasantly  in  answer  to  her  salutation  :  but  she  would  rather 
have  had  a  word  of  blessing  from  the  old  man,  who  used,  at 
such  pleasant  hours  of  the  day,  to  occupy  the  door-seat,  lean- 
ing on  his  bone-handled  cane,  and  giving  a  cheerful  word  to 
every  passer-by.  And  she  thought  of  the  old  Deacon,  and 
the  old  pastor  with  whom  he  was  so  intimately  associated, 
till  she  found  herself  in  front  of  the  Tannery.  "  What  a 
pretty  place,"  she  said  to  herself.  The  mountain-ashes  were 
already  covered  with  red  berries.  Dahlias  were  blooming  in 
profusion.  The  lemon-trees  loaded  with  fruit,  and  japonicas 
in  full  flower,  lined  the  wide  walk  that  led  up  to  the  house. 
No  member  of  the  family  was  visible ;  they  were  probably 
at  evening  prayer :  Helen  was  half-minded  to  alight  and  join 
them — but  Caesar  might  be  tired,  he  was  growing  old — and 


252  VILLAGE     FKIKNDss, 

so  she  caute:ed  on.  The  little  brook  murmured  the  same 
old  song  ;  and  only  the  pretty  group  of  willows  showed 
where  the  tan-pits  used  to  be.  Helen  was  sure  that  her 
horse  shyed  away  from  the  parsonage,  so  involuntarily  had 
she  twitched  the  right  rein  and  drawn  close  up  to  the  church 
side  of  the  road :  but  having  done  so,  it  was  but  following 
another  impulse  to  ride  round  the  little  semicircle  of  poplars 
and  pause  a  moment  at  the  corner  of  the  wall,  where  she 
could  be^t  see  the  cluster  of  old  gray  stones  and  the  one 
white  obelisk.  The  sun  came  streaming  down  from  an 
opening  in  the  hills  and  lit  them  up  with  that  peculiar  soft 
brilliancy  that  the  slanting  ray  alone  imparts.  "Jesus — 
Heaven,"  Helen  whispered  to  herself,  recalling  the  last  scene 
in  the  uneventful  life  that  had  ended  here.  Slowly  she  pro- 
ceeded on  her  way,  and  had  not  an  eye  to  observe  any  thing, 
till  a  flitting  figure  at  the  gate  of  Steve  Ball's  house  caught 
her  attention :  she  was  sure  it  was  Margaret  Ball ;  probably  she 
was  looking  for  her  father,  and  did  not  care  to  be  seen  look- 
ing for  him,  either.  The  black-smithy  was  deserted ;  the 
door  open ;  no  merry  ring  came  from  the  anvil,  no  bright 
sparks  flew  cut  from  the  tottering  chimney.  Helen  sighed 
to  think  where  he  probably  was,  and  that  his  boisterous 
laugh  had  mingled,  perhaps,  in  the  shout  of  coarse  merri- 
ment she  had  heard  from  the  tavern  bar-room  :  and  she  sigh- 
ed to  think  how  nearly  Mrs.  Stryker's  prediction  had  been 
verified.  O  for  some  kind,  strong  hand  to  hold  him  back 
from  that  brink  of  perdition !  The  wish  framed  itself  (not 
then  in  the  passing,  hasty  thought  of  the  moment,  but  after- 
ward in  the  solemn  retirement  of  her  own  room),  into  a  de- 
liberate and  earnest  prayer  for  the  old  friend  of  her  child- 
hood, that  God  would  mercifully  save  him  from  the  pit  of 


AND     UNEXPECTED     GUESTS.  253 

drunkenness.  Mr.  Graves'  serious  bow,  as  she  rode  past 
Slater's  store,  conveyed  to  her  a  whole  homily  of  pointless 
commonplaces  aimed  at  awful  truths :  nevertheless,  Mr. 
Graves'  arrows  were  not  all  without  barbs  ;  they  sometimes 
pierced  where  more  polished  steel  glanced  aside.  Kitty 
White's  face  appeared  at  her  cottage  window,  as  Helen  can- 
tered by,  and  returned  a  gratified  bow  to  her  pleasant  salute: 
and  Helen  tired  of  the  slow  gait,  put  her  horse  on  the  run, 
and  was  in  a  trice  at  the  great  gate-way.  Caesar  who  had 
passed  on  before  her,  while  she  loitered  at  the  church-yard 
(where  another,  too,  had  passed  unnoticed  before  her),  had 
summoned  the  porter's  child  to  open  it.  But  she  did  not 
enter.  The  stage-coach,  announced  by  the  rumbling  of  its 
heavy  wheels  and  the  cloud  of  dust  that  enveloped  it, 
was  already  in  sight,  and  she  waited  to  see  it.  She 
wheeled  her  horse  under  the  outstretched  branches  of  an 
elm,  and  with  her  hat  in  her  hand,  and  face  radiant  with  the 
glow  of  recent  exercise,  she  waited  till  the  four  in  hand, 
now  at  their  highest  speed,  should  appear  and  vanish.  "  But 
who  is  that,  smiling  at  her  from  out  a  basket  full  of  blue 
ribbons  and  flowers  ?  Oh !  it  was  Cynthia  Stryker.  But 
who  is  that  waving  his  hat  on  the  further  side  of  the  coach  ? 
— could  it  be — ?"  But  the  stage  was  gone. 

"  Caesar,  did  you  observe  that  gentleman  in  the  stage  ?" 

"  Was  n't  it  Mr.  Seymour,  Miss  Helen  ?" 

"  I  thought  so.     I  was  not  sure." 

"  I  saw  him  last  spring,  when  I  went  with  Mr.  Lee  to 
York,  or  I  would  n't  know  him  agin.  Oh !  Miss  Helen, 
he '?/  make  a  good  minister  though  !" 

But  Helen  was  cantering  as  fast  as  she  could  and  did  not 
answer. 


254  VILLAGE     FRIENDS, 

"  How  strange,"  she  thought  to  herself,  as  she  hurried  up 
stairs,  "  that  Perry  did  not  stop  at  Truro.  I  suppose  he  felt 
obliged  to  see  Cynthia  Stryker  home.  He  will  be  back  be- 
fore I  can  change  my  dress." 

Her  wardrobe  was  simple :  but,  to-night,  it  was  difficult 
to  ascertain  which  was  the  very  nicest  of  her  white  dresses : 
she,  too,  in  such  a  hurry  :  Perry  might  come  and  she  not  be 
ready.  The  dress  determined  upon,  it  took  but  a  minute  to 
smooth  the  ringlets  that  even  a  horseback  canter  could  not 
greatly  disarrange.  With  more  care,  she  selected  a  little 
bunch  of  forget-me-nots  (Perry  helped  her  to  gather  the 
roots  long  ago)  and  fastened  them  in  the  inserting  neck- 
band of  her  dress,  the  pretty  blue  stars  contrasted  with  the 
white  neck  on  which  they  fell,  as  sapphires  might  with  ala- 
baster. But  Nellie  thought  only  of  the  prettiness  of  the 
flowers,  not  of  their  setting.  "Absurd,"  she  ejaculated  to 
herself,  as  she  hurried  down  stairs,  "how  could  Mrs.  Stryker 
say  so  !  Perry  and  Cynthia !"  She  began  to  laugh,  but 
the  remembrance  of  the  time  when  she  was  first  amused 
with  Mrs.  Stryker's  remarkable  vaticination,  checked  her 
merriment  now,  and  she  left  the  thought  half  finished. 

Perry  was  not  yet  come.  She  walked  down  to  the  stile 
and  looked  as  far  down  the  road  as  the  deepening  darkness 
would  let  her.  There  was  no  appearance  of  the  young  theo- 
logue.  The  tinkle  of  the  tea-bell  came  feebly  floating  down 
to  her  on  the  dew-damp  air :  she  went  back  to  the  house, 
perpetually  saying  to  herself,  "  I  am  so  disappointed,"  "  how 
unaccountable  it  is !" 

Tea  was  over,  and  the  company,  which  had  been  weeded 
out  during  the  last  week  of  premonitory  chilly  weather,  was 
gathered  in  the  great  parlors,  where  wood  fires  diffused  a 


AND     UNEXPECTED     GUESTS.  255 

gentle  warmth,  when,  at  last,  Mr.  Perry  Seymour  was  an- 
nounced. Though  Nellie  had  seen  him  in  the  stage-coach  a 
few  hours  before,  she  was  doubtful  for  a  minute,  if  indeed  it 
were  he — so  much  taller  and  manlier  had  he  grown — till 
he  smiled,  then  she  was  sure. 

"  Perry,  my  dear  boy,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lee,  "  where  did 
you  come  from  'C 

"  From  the  parsonage,  last,  sir." 

"  The  parsonage  !  What  pray  took  you  there  ?  Because 
you  are  to  be  a  parson,  must  you  pass  by  old  friends,  to  bring 
up  at  the  parsonage  T' 

"  Not  without  an  object,  sir." 

"  An  object !  Miss  Cynthia  is  not  your  object,  I  hope  ?" 

Perry  blushed  a  little,  only  a  very  little,  as  one  pair  of 
eyes  at  least  could  testify ;  but  he  answered  as  composedly 
as  before, 

"  It  certainly  was  part  of  my  object  to  see  Miss  Cynthia 
safely  in  her  brother's  house." 

"Part  of  his  object !  what  I  wonder  is  the  other  part,"  said 
Nellie  to  herself. 

Perry  extricated  his  hand  from  Mr.  Lee's  and  made  the 
circuit  of  the  parlors.  At  last  he  obeyed  the  nods  and 
smiles  with  which  Nellie  had  been  inviting  "him  to  a  seat  by 
her  side. 

"  Oh,  Perry,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  What  has  kept 
you  so  long  ?  I  had  begun  to  think  that  both  my  eyes  and 
Cesar's  were  at  fault." 

"  How  you  have  grown,  Nellie,"  lie  replied,  evading  her 
question. 

"  You,  too.  Not  grown  merely,  but  changed.  It's  more 
than  a  year  since  you  were  here  before.  Have  you  had  tea2" 


L'56  VILLAGE     FRIENDS, 

"  Yes." 

Here  Mr.  Lee's  voice  calling  to  him,  broke  off  the  conver- 
sation and  started  Perry  from  his  seat. 

"  Caesar  told  me,"  said  Mr.  Lee, "  that  he  saw  you  and  Miss 
Cynthia  Stryker  in  the  stage-coach;  but  as  you  did  not 
make  your  appearance  and  verify  his  statement,  I  had  con- 
cluded that  he  was  mistaken.  Now,  please  explain  yourself. 
Why  are  you  not  in  traveling  dress  ?  And  why  have  you 
tarried  so  long  at  the  parsonage  ?" 

"  I  am  not  in  traveling  dress,  because  I  have  exchanged 
dusty  clothes  for  clean  ones.  I  tarried  so  long  at  the  par- 
sonage, because  Mr.  Stryker  insisted  upon  it." 

"  Curt  and  precise,"  said  Mr.  Lee.     "  If  Mr.  Stryker  had 
insisted  upon  keeping  you  altogether,  you  would  have  sub- 
mitted to  that  too,  I  suppose  ?" 
"  Not  only  would,  but  hav e,  sir." 
"  Have  ? — You  do  not  mean — " 

"  That  I  have  consented  to  return  to  the  parsonage,"  Perry 
interrupted,  smiling. 

"  That  is  too  bad !"  Mr.  Lee  exclaimed,  and  immediately 
disappeared  from  the  room. 

"  What  could  possess  you,  Perry,  to  accept  of  Mr.  Stry- 
ker's  imitation  ?"  Nellie  asked.  But  before  he  could  answer, 
Mr.  Langdon  Murray  had  slipped  into  the  vacant  chair  by 
Nellie's  side,  and  was  admiring  her  forget-me-nots. 

Helen  glanced  up  at  Perry.     "  Do  you  remember  when 
we  gathered  the  roots  ?"  she  asked. 
"  Yes,  indeed,"  he  answered. 

But  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  broke  in  with  some  wise  re- 
mark, about  the  inability  of  forgetting  some  things,  and 
Perry  crossed  the  room  to  talk  to  Mrs.  Lee.  Mr.  Murray 


AND     UNEXPECTED     GUESTS.  257 

was  very  pertinacious  this  evening  in  making  himself  agree- 
able to  Helen.  At  other  times,  if  not  in  the  humor  of  lis- 
tening to  him,  she  would  have  availed  herself  of  a  child's  lib- 
erty and  run  out  of  the  room.  But  now  she  wished  too 
much  to  see  Peiry.  She  could  only  see  him.  Mr.  Murray 
would  keep  talking  to  her,  and  Perry  was  talking  to  every 
body  else. 

At  last  Mr.  Seymour  rose  to  go. 

"  Good-night,  Perry,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  with  a  peculiar  smile. 
"  You  have  the  same  room  as  of  old.  You  will  find  your 
trunk  there.  I  sent  for  it.  Could  not  think  of  the  sou  of 
my  old  friend  staying  any  where  else  ;  not  even  at  the  par- 
sonage." 

Perry  looked  surprised,  amused,  pleased,  and  serious  by 
turns.  Nellie  saw  only  the  last  look,  and  wondered  what  it 
meant.  It  was  on  her  lips  to  say  how  glad  she  was,  but  the 
serious  look  checked  her ;  and  as  Perry  retired  from  the 
room,  she  only  nodded  a  pleasant  good-night  at  him.  So 
soon  as  he  was  well  oft',  she  ran  away  too. 

"  What  does  possess  Mr.  Murray  to  talk  so  much  to  me  ? 
He  is  clever  and  agreeable  enough,  but  he  might  find  some 
one  else  to  be  clever  to."  So  thinking,  Nellie  was  making 
her  way  across  the  great  hall  to  the  stair-case,  when  she  be- 
came aware  that  a  tall  figure  was  standing  motionless  near 
the  front  door.  She  turned — looked — advanced  a  step  or 
two — hesitated — and  then — 

"  Oh,  Norton !" 

"  Dear  Nellie,  is  that  you  ?  I  could  not  make  up  my 
mind  that  it  was — you  have  grown  so !" 

"  When  did  you  arrive  ?"  asked  Nellie,  keeping  both  arms 
round  his  neck. 


258  VILLAGE     FRIENDS, 

"Now.  Just  this  moment;  and  was  wondering  how  I 
could  make  my  arrival  known  without  creating  too  much 
of  a  sensation." 

"  I'll  manage  it,"  said  Nellie,  releasing  herself  from  his 
arms.  "  Come  into  the  tea-room.  I  will  bring  mother  and 
father.  We  will  tell  no  one  else  till  to-morrow." 

"  And,  then,  rose-bud,"  said  her  brother, "  please  order  me 
supper,  for  I  am  half-famished.  The  vessel  came  to  anchor 
in  New  York  bay  at  twelve  o'clock  this  noon,  and  I  have 
sped  hither  as  fast  as  horses  could  carry  me,  without  having 
eaten  a  morsel  since  breakfast." 

Nellie  left  him  in  the  tea-room,  to  carry  the  rest  of  her 
plan  into  execution.  The  father  and  mother  were  success- 
ively and  successfully  smuggled  into  the  tea-room  ;  and  the 
hungiy  traveler  was  supplied  with  a  suitable  quantity  and 
quality  of  smoking  edibles. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  having  answered  the  questions  of  his 
parents,  as  to  his  health,  the  passage,  and  the  well-being  of 
Robert  and  Theresa,  whom  he  had  last  seen  at  Berlin,  "  and 
now,  tell  me,  who  all  are  here." 

"  Charlotte  and  Emma,  and  their  husbands  and  children, 
of  course,"  Mr.  Lee  begun. 

"  And  oh,  Norton,"  interrupted  Nellie,  "  Perry  Seymour 
came  to-night." 

"  And  Mr.  Murray  has  been  here  a  good  many  days  and 
nights,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  with  humorsome  seriousness. 

"  What  Murray  ?     Langdon  Murray  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  does  he  find  so  attractive  here  ?" 

"  Ask  Nellie,"  was  Mr.  Lee's  answer. 


AND     UNEXPECTED     GUESTS.  259 

"  Nellie ! — Take  care,  rose-bud.  Time  enough  to  think 
about  that,  if  Mr.  Murray  is  rich  and  handsome." 

"  You  have  not  touched  the  surface  of  his  great  qualities," 
answered  Nellie,  laughingly. 

"  You  said  Perry  Seymour  is  here,"  was  Norton's  next 
question ;  "  does  he  persevere  in  the  absurd  notion  of  being 
a  minister  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  he  does,"  answered  Helen,  with  spirit. 

"Well.  If  not  over-sensible  he  may  make  a  sincere 
minister." 

"  You  are  oracular,"  said  Nellie,  ironically. 

"  I  but  pronounced  a  simple  truth." 

"  That  no  really  sensible  man  can  be  a  sincere  minister  of 
the  Gospel  ?"  asked  Nellie. 

"  Even  so." 

Nellie  looked  her  indignant  answer,  which  she  would  not 
condescend  to  put  into  words. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Mr.  Poole,  Norton  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Lee,  with  a  tremulous  voice. 

"  Dear  mother,  I  did  forget  your  presence,  and  must  con- 
fess that  Mr.  Poole  was  a  sensible  man ;  and,  I  must  believe, 
sincere.  But  he  was  so  childlike,  so  unskilled  in  the  world, 
and  so  little  read  up  in  the  scientific  discoveries  and  espe- 
cially Biblical  criticism  of  the  day,  that  the  exception  in  his 
case  should  hardly  affect  the  truthfulness  of  my  assertion." 

"  Mr.  Poole  had  more  sagacity,  worldly  knowledge  and 
literary  attainments  too,  than  you  seem  to  concede,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Lee. 

"  I  submit,"  said  Norton.  "  My  remark  was  too  sweeping. 
This  rose-bud  'set  with  little  willful  thorns,'  provoked  me 
into  a  stronger  assertion  than  was  wise." 


260  VILLAGE     FRIENDS,     ETC. 

"  A  rose-bud  should  never  be  roughly  handled,  if  you  are 
BO  very  sensitive  to  its  thorns." 

Norton  laughed,  and  asked  if  Miss  Brown  still  was  charged 
with  the  training  of  this  particular  flower. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Nellie.  "  How  often  I  feel  thankful  to 
you  for  Miss  Brown." 

Norton  looked  gratified.  He  was  now  refreshed  and 
rested  ;  and  concluded  to  show  himself  to  the  rest  of  the 
family,  and  have  the  first  welcomings  over.  With  Nellie 
leaning  on  one  arm,  his  mother  on  the  other,  and  Mr.  Lee 

O  '  ' 

acting  as  usher,  he  was  escorted  into  the  parlor,  and  took 
the  assembled  company  amid  a  storm  of  exclamations  and 
interrogations. 

Nellie  was  happy  that  night.  It  was  so  pleasant  to  have 
Perry  Seymour  and  brother  Norton  both  at  Truro  once 
more. 


XXVIII. 

pants  (Hdl-nnrtrtr,  f  wfo,  attir 


'The  best  way  to  propagate  Christianity  is  to  propagate  Christians.' 

CHARLES  LAMB. 


OEAUTY,  the  new  gray-hound,  had  never  had  such  a 
-*-'  race  as  Nellie  gave  him  the  next  morning.  Perry  stood 
watching  her  as  she  came  running  toward  the  house,  her 
cheeks  rosy  with  health  and  her  eye  sparkling  with  exuber- 
ant spirits. 

"  Prince  has  a  successor  to  your  favor,  I  observe,"  remark- 
ed Perry. 

"Yes.  I  call  him  Beauty.  Mr.  Murray  gave  him  to 
me." 

Perry  had  no  further  comments  to  make  on  Beauty. 

"  Do  you  know  Mr.  Murray  ?"  asked  Nellie,  as  they  went 
in  to  breakfast. 

"  No." 

"  You  will  like  him.    I  do." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  who  was  standing  in  the  door- 
way. Judging  by  his  pleased  look,  Mr.  Murray  never  liked 
himself  so  much  as  he  did  that  instant. 

In  the  moment's  detention,  caused  by  this  unexpected 
renconter,  Nellie  was  left  behind  with  Mr.  Murray,  who 
managed  to  occupy  the  chair  next  hers  at  the  breakfast- 


262  PLANTS  WELL  ROOTED, 

table,  while  Perry  was  seated  on  the  other  side,  and  the  high 
coffee-urn  was  between  them.  Miss  Brown,  Norton,  and 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee  were  the  only  other  members  of  the 
family  who  were  present.  The  rest  kept  later  hours. 

"  How  is  your  mother,  Perjy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Lee. 

"  She  is  very  well,  sir." 

"  And  how  is  Mr.  Sickles  ?"  asked  Nellie,  stretching  her 
ueck  to  see  and  be  seen,  round  the  coffee-urn 

"He  is  very  well,  too." 

"  You  must  come  up  stairs  after  breakfast,  and  see  his 
birds,"  said  Nellie. 

"  Has  Mr.  Sickles  intrusted  you  with  '  his'  aviary  ?"  in-    ^ 
quired  Mr.  Murray. 

"Yes,"  Nellie  answered,  laughing,  "if  two  canaries  consti- 
tute an  aviary." 

"What  is  so  remarkable  about  these  two  canaries  that 
they  are  worth  a  journey  up  stairs  to  see  them  ?"  Mr.  Mur- 
ray was  bent  on  acquiring  information  this  morning. 

"  Mr.  Sickles'  canaries  are  not  like  any  others,"  said  Helen. 
"Are  they,  Perry  ?"  and  she  stretched  her  neck  again  to  get 
a  vis-a-vis.  But  Perry's  eyes  and  ears  were  given  to  Mr. 
Lee,  who  was  asking  after  Miss  Van  Home  and  his  brother 
Albert. 

"Miss  Van  Home  enjoys  excellent  health.  Albert  is  in 
Europe,"  was  the  answer. 

"Albert  in  Europe!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lee.  "  What  in  the 
world  took  him  to  Europe?" 

"  Legal  business,  I  believe,"  answered  Perry,  reciprocating 
the  smile,  "that  happily  or  unhappily  has  fallen  into  his 
hands.  But,  sir,  I  have  even  more  surprising  intelligence 
for  you :  I  myself  sail  for  Europe  in  the  next  steamer." 


"a 


TRIED,     AND     APPROVED.  263 

Helen,  Miss  Brown,  and  even  Mrs.  Lee  joined  in  the  ex- 
clamation of  surprise,  this  time ;  but  it  was  uttered  in  a  tone 
that  indicated  pleasure  and  congratulation. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Perry :  ;'  Mr.  Sickles  has  discovered  that 
important  business,  which  no  one  but  myself  can  transact,  re- 
quires my  immediate  transportation  over  the  ocean." 

"  Will  you  visit  Germany  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Norton  Lee. 

"  Mr.  Sickles  insists  upon  my  doing  so." 

"  I  must  give  you  letters  to  some  of  my  friends  at  the  uni- 
versities." 

"  Thank  you." 

;"  And  I  will  give  you  letters  which  may  be  of  use  in  Eng- 
nd,"  said  Mr.  Lee. 

"  If  Mr.  Seymour  will  accept  of  them,  from  a  friend  of 
Mr.  Sickles,  I  can  give  him  a  letter  or  two,  to  friends  in 
France,  and,  if  he  wishes  them,  in  England  too !"  added  Mr. 
Murray. 

While  Perry's  words  expressed  thanks,  his  countenance 
glowed  with  gratification.  The  conversation  now  was  all  of 
Europe.  Each  of  the  gentlemen  had  a  word  of  advice.  He 
must  not  hurry  home.  They  approved  of  Mr.  Sickles'  plan, 
that  he  should  spend  a  term  at  Edinburgh.  Mr.  Norton  Lee 
thought  that  he  should  add  to  that  at  least  one  year  at  the 
German  universities.  Mr.  Murray  insisted  that  another  year 
must  be  given  to  traveling.  Perry,  amused  at  the  freedom 
with  which  they  were  taxing  the  good  friend's  generosity 
who  was  to  be  at  the  expense  of  this  European  tour,  thought 
it  was  more  probable  that  his  absence  would  terminate  in 
three  months,  than  l>e  prolonged  to  three  years. 

As  they  rose  from  the  breakfast-table,  Mr.  Murray  claimed 
Nellie's  attention  till  he  could  finish  the  account  of  some 


264  PLANTS     WELL     ROOTED. 

European  castle,  or  church,  Nellie  could  not  have  told  what ; 
seeming  to  listen,  but  really  watching  Perry's  movements, 
she  was  carried  along  captive  to  the  door  of  the  oak-room. 
Then  the  story  came  to  an  end,  and  with  an  interjectional 
"  indeed  !  beautiful !"  which  left  Mr.  Murray  saying  to  him- 
self, "  she  certainly  did  not  hear  or  understand  me,"  she 
turned  to  Perry,  who  had  already  taken  his  hat  and  seemed 
meditating  his  exit. 

"  Perry,"  she  said,  "  come  up  stairs  and  see  my  canaries 
and  my  herbarium." 

"  I  can  not  now,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  am  bound  to  the 
Parsonage.  Good-morning." 

Nellie  was  sorry,  and  Perry,  she  thought,  looked  sorry  too.™ 
"  What  carries  him  to  the  parsonage  ?"  she  said  to  herself. 
But  brother  Norton  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  May  I  see  that  harbariurn,  rose-bud  ?  Canaries  I  am  not 
partial  to." 

"  Yes,  indeed  you  may,  brother  Norton  ;  and  my  minerals, 
too,  and  you  can  tell  me  about  some  that  I  can  not  make  out, 
if  you  will." 

In  the  little  boudoir  Norton  had  the  seat  of  honor,  the 
corner  of  the  dimity-covered  couch.  The  herbarium  was 
displayed  on  a  table  placed  for  the  purpose  directly  in  front 
of  him.  It  was  not  an  extensive  collection,  but  showed  care, 
taste,  and  more  exact  knowledge  than  he  was  prepared  for. 
The  cabinet  also,  if  arranged  with  too  much  feminine  regard 
for  effect  and  beauty  to  please  a  scientific  eye,  was  still  a 
creditable  exposition  of  the  attainment  of  so  young  a  miner- 
alogist. Norton  volunteered  to  accompany  her  on  a  search 
for  a  rare  flower,  which  should  then  be  in  bloom. 

"  When  shall  we  go  ?"  asked  Nellie 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  265 

"  To-day,  if  you  please." 

"  How  long  do  you  intend  to  stay  at  Truro,  brother 
Norton?" 

"  Only  a  week,  at  present." 

"  Then  I  will  ask  Miss  Brown  to  excuse  me  altogether 
from  the  school-room,  that  I  may  spend  all  my  time  with 
you  and  Perry." 

"  Perry  seems  to  be  as  much  a  friend  of  yours  as  ever," 
was  the  only  comment  of  her  brother  on  this  information. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.     "  But  I  seldom  see  him  now." 

"  Seems  to  me,  Nellie,  you  have  a  good  many  pious  sort 
of  friends.  Who  are  those  Hughes  you  so  often  mentioned 
in  your  letters  ?" 

"  Do  you  not  remember  Mrs.  Hughes,  who  used  to  be  my 
Sunday-school  teacher  ?"  ** 

"  I  remember  you  had  a  Sunday-school  teacher  whom 
you  often  talked  about ;  but  as  I  never  knew  that  remarkable 
person,  I  certainly  do  not  remember  her.  But,  rose-bud, 
are  these  just  the  kind  of  friends  for  you  to  be  so  very  inti- 
mate with  ?" 

"  Why  not  ?"  asked  Nellie,  with  some  pique. 

"  Mr.  Hughes,  I  think  is  a  tanner  and  currier  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  An  uneducated  man  then,  of  course,  and  his  wife  I  sup- 
pose, however  pious,  an  uncultivated  woman." 

"  Of  course !"  repeated  Nellie,  ironically.  "  And,  of  course, 
every  nobleman  and  titled  lady  you  met,  when  abroad,  was 
highly  educated  and  elegantly  cultivated !" 

"  Your  fierce  little  thorns  are  of  American  growth,  that  is 
certain,"  replied  Norton.  "  But  you  forget  that  I  have  spent 

12 


266  PLANTS     WELL     ROOTED, 

more  time  in  German  universities,  where  niauy  of  the  great- 
est scholars  are  of  plebeian  rank." 

"  We  have  no  plebeians  in  America,  Brother  Norton ; 
though  I  am  sorry  to  confess  that  there  is  some  sort  of  aris- 
tocracy." 

"  Well,  well,  Miss  Philosopher,  I  did  not  mean  to  assert, 
nor  controvert  principles.  As  a  serious  fact,  however,  I  much 
feai  that  tanners  and  curriers  are  much  too  low-minded  and 
vulgar  to  be  the  intimate  friends  of  my  delicate  rose-bud." 

Nellie  was  as  red  as  the  veriest  rose-bud  of  the  House  of 
Lancaster,  at  that  moment. 

"  Brother  Norton,"  she  began,  "  am  I  not — "  improved,  — 
she  was  about  to  say,  but  stopped  ere  betrayed  into  a  sell- 
compliment. 

"A  pretty  rofte-bud,"  said  Norton,  finishing  the  sentence 
for  her. 

Nellie  laughed,  and  began  again. 

"  Brother  Norton,  are  you  glad  that  I  have  bestowed  so 
much  time  on  the  Natural  Sciences  ?" 

"  Very  glad." 

"  Would  you  rather  see  me  interested  in  botany,  and  min  • 
eralogy,  and  astronomy,  and  such  studies,  than  in  fussing 
over  worsted-work,  or  reading  novels,  and  talking  non- 
sense ?" 

"  Most  certainly,  you  wise  rose-bud." 

"  Well !  If  Cousin  Hetty  Hughes,  and  Mr.  Hughes  had  not 
incited  me  to  these  studies,  and  given  me  a  ta&te  for  them 
and  for  other  good  things,  I  should  have  cared  and  known 
nothing  about  them.  But  for  the  influence  which  they  have 
exerted  over  me,  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  improved  even 
with  such  a  teacher  as  Miss  Brown.  I  sometimes  think  1 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  267 

owe  every  thing  to  them.  And  now,  Brother  Nortcn,  I  shall 
be  angry  with  you  as  long  as  you  stay  here,  unless  you  will 
go  with  me  now,  right  away,  to  see  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes, 
and  judge  of  them  for  yourself." 

"  I  will  do  almost  any  thing  to  escape  such  anger  as  yours 
must  be,  Nellie.  But  you  know  I  am  not  fond  of  visiting — 
especially  strangers." 

"Oli,  but  you  will  like  them." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it.  I  feel  it.  They  are  of  youi  kind — that 
is,  in  some  things.  You  will  goT' 

"  If  you  insist." 

"  Now,  right  off?" 

"Yes." 

"  I  will  tell  Miss  Brown,  and  get  my  bonnet,"  and  Nellie 
ran  away  in  high  glee. 

Norton  left  the  room  at  the  same  moment,  but  returned 
before  she  did,  with  his  arms  full  of  books,  which  he  depos- 
ited on  the  table  where  the  herbarium  had  been.  Then  at 
his  leisure  he  examined  the  books  already  in  the  book-case. 

"  How  kind  of  you  !  How  beautifully  bound,"  exclaimed 
Nellie,  as  the  literary  treasures  on  the  table  caught  her  eye, 
as  she  entered  the  room.  She  went  directly  to  Norton  to 
kiss  him  for  his  present,  and  then  turned  to  the  table  to 
make  a  closer  inspection  of  its  contents. 

"  Schiller  and  Gothe :  but  I  do  not  read  German." 

"You  must  learn  it,  then." 

"  I  will,  if  you  say  so.  But  what  are  these  !  Oh,  Buf- 
fon !  thank  you.  And  here  are  birds,  how  exquisite  ;"  and 
she  left  the  table  to  give  her  brother  another  kiss  of  grati- 
tude, for  she  now  knew  that  the  present  was  as  costly  as  it 


268  PLANTS  WELL  ROOTED, 

was  valuable.  "  I  knew  you  would  bring  me  books,  but  did 
not  expect  such  a  splendid  addition  to  my  library.  Look 
here,  do  you  see  this  row  ?"  pointing  to  the  highest  shelf  in 
the  book-case. 

"  Yes.  They  look  rather  childish  and  nursery-like  beside 
these  mature  volumes  on  the  lower  shelves." 

"  You  gave  me  that  row,  at  different  times,  when  I  was  a 
little  girl.  I  did  not  read  them  then,  I  liked  story-books 
better.  I  never  should  have  read  them,  perhaps,  but  for 
those  '  low-minded,  vulgar'  friends  of  mine  !  Come  let  us  go. 
Mr.  Hughes  drives  down  to  his  factories  at  ten,  and  it  is 
almost  that  now." 

As  they  left  the  room  together,  arm  in  arm,  Norton  re- 
marked that  he  was  pleased  with  the  selection  of  books  in 
her  library,  except  that  he  thought  the  pious  element  too 
much  predominated.  "Aside  from  religious  belief,  Nellie," 
he  said,  "  I  think  what  may  be  termed  pious  writings — 
mind,  I  do  not  say  religious,  but  pious — almost  as  injurious 
to  the  intellect  as  trashy  novels,  or  any  other  sentimental 
stuff." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  pious  as  distinguished  from  re- 
ligious ?"  Nellie  asked. 

"  I  used  the  word  pious  to  express  the  emotional,  or  senti- 
mental writings  of  religious  people." 

"  I  do  wish  Brother  Norton,  you  had  not  such  a  horrid 
prejudice  to  that  word  '  pious.' " 

"  It  is  not  a  mere  prejudice  against  a  word,  Nellie,  but  dis- 
belief of  a  thing." 

"  Yet,  just  now  you  approved  of  religious  books  as  distin- 
guished from  pious  ?" 

"  I  did  not  make  my  meaning  clear.     There  are  religious 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  269 

works,  treatises  on  religious  subjects,  which  are  profound 
and,  however  they  may  mislead  faith,  undoubtedly  strengthen 
and  invigorate  the  reason.  To  these  I  make  no  objection,  in 
an  intellectual  point  of  view — and  in  this  sense  only,  would  I 
have  you  understand  me.  With  your  religious  opinions, 
dear  Nellie,  I  shall  not  meddle — if  I  can  help  it." 

Nellie  made  no  reply. 

"  By  the  by,  Nellie,"  he  resumed,  "  how  is  it  that  in  this 
famous  library  of  yours,  there  are  no  works  on  the  Evidences 
of  Christianity  ?  Such  a  stanch  believer  and  advocate  of 
its  claims  ought  to  be  well  read-up  in  this  branch  of  religious 
literature." 

"  I  hardly  know  why,  Brother  Norton,  but  I  never  could 
get  interested  in  any  works  of  that  character.  They  are 
either  appeals  to  the  reader's  ignorance,  or  else  long,  labored 
arguments,  where  there  is  no  need  of  proof,  or  refutation :  at 
least  where  I  need  no  convincing." 

"  How  is  that,  can  you  believe  without  proof?" 

"  I  do  not  believe  more  firmly  for  arguments ;  I  do  not  ap- 
preciate them.  I  guess  I  am  no  logician.  Pa  used  to  say, 
when  I  was  a  child,  I  never  could  give  a  reason  for  any 
thing ;  and  so,  I  think,  it  is  with  me  now.  I  believe  with- 
out reason." 

"  How  is  that.  I  thought  your  mind  was  better  discip- 
lined." 

"  Oh,  my  mind !  That  is  another  thing.  I  was  speaking 
of  what  we  believe  with  the  heart." 

"  You  dear  little  rose-bud,  we  are  as  unintelligible  to  each 
other  as  possible.  Will  you  not  unfold  your  petals  and  let 
me  into  the  heart  of  your  meaning?  You  are  not  a  philoso- 
pher of  the  inner  consciousness  school  I  hope,  for  that  non- 


270  PLANTS  WELL  HOOTED, 

sense  I  abominate.  I  am  too  sensible,  I  hope,  or  prosaic, 
they  would  call  in  .,  to  be  captivate:!  by  such  vagaries. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  Brother  Norton  ?" 

"  Let  us  begin  again,"  he  answered,  laughingly.  "  How 
can  you  believe  without  proof?" 

"  I  can't,  except  where  there  is  no  need  of  proof." 

"  And  does  not  Christian  doctrine  need  proof?" 

"Not  for  me." 

"  Why,  pray,  are  you  exempt  from  this  necessity  ?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  Only  I  can  not  disbelieve  it,  and  so  cer- 
tainly I  need  no  arguments  to  make  me  believe  it.  Brother 
Norton,  I  do  not  want  any  one,  by  an  elaborate  argu- 
ment, to  prove  to  me  that  there  is  such  a  person  as  you, 
or  that  you  love  me,  or  that  you  are  worthy  of  my  love. 
Do  I?" 

"I  hope  not." 

"  Well,  Brother  Norton.  I  need  just  as  little  any  profound 
treatises  to  prove  that  there  is  a  God,  that  He  loves  me,  and 
that  He  is  worthy  ot  my  love.  These  I  know,  I  feel,  and  no 
cold  argument  could  strengthen  the  conviction ;  it  would 
only  be  winding  wisps  of  straw  around  bars  of  iron.  And  so 
of  all  the  great  truths  of  Christianity.  If  you  press  me  for 
the  arguments  by  which  I  fortify  myself  in  the  belief  of 
them,  I  shall  answer  you  in  the  words  of  Pascal,  '  Le  coeur  a 
ses  raisons,  que  la  raison  ne  connuit  pas  ;'  or  better  yet,  in  the 
words  of  the  Bible,  "  If  any  man  will  do  His  will,  he  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine,  whether  it  be  of  God." 

"  Not  so  poor  a  logician,  after  all !"  thought  Norton.  But 
just  then  they  were  passing  the  Parsonage,  and  Nellie  ex- 
rlaimed, 

"  Perhaps  we  may  see  Perry !" 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  271 

They  did  see  him.  He  was  walking  slowly  up  the  long 
pathway,  toward  the  house,  with  Miss  Cynthia  Stryker. 

"Perry  does  not  see  us;  shall  I  call  him?"  asked  Nor- 
ton. 

"  No,  please  not,"  said  Nellie,  hurriedly,  "  I  would  rather 
not  see  Cynthia.'' 

"  How  this  place  is  spoiled  !"  said  Norton. 

"  Yes,  indeed !" 

"  Do  you  like  Mr.  Stryker  ?" 

Nellie  deliberated  before  she  answered.  She  was  about  to 
say,  "  Not  so  much  as  I  liked  Mr.  Poole."  But  she  thought 
this  would  be  an  evasion,  and  she  answered  according  to  the 
simple  truth — 

"  No,  I  can  not  say  that  I  do." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  ;  as  I  used  to  say  when  a  child." 

u  Is  he  a  bad  man  ?" 

"No." 

"  Is  he  a  good  man  ?" 

"  In  that  he  is  not  bad." 

"  Enigmatical.  Have  you  no  reasons  for  likes  and  dis- 
likes ?" 

"  Brother  Norton,  I  told  you  that  I  can  not  give  reasons, 
do  not  have  reasons.  In  this  case  I  am  especially  destitute 
of  them.  I  just  do  not  feel  any  particular  liking  to  Mr. 
Stryker,  and  that 's  all !" 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  is  he  ?" 

"  A  man  of  infellect  and  of  reading ;  deficient  in  sensibility 
and  good  breeding.  Too  little  a  man  of  the  world ;  too 
much  a  man  of  business.  You  will  like  him,  perhaps.  He 
will  talk  philosophy  to  you  nil  day,  and  give  you  a  thousand 


272  PLANTS  WELL  ROOTED, 

severe  arguments  for  his  belief  in  Christianity.  If  he  can, 
he  will  force  your  faith,  but  never  woo  it." 

"Well!  You  have  given  a  pretty  full  exposee  of  your 
reasons,  after  all." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  Tannery. 

"  Whose  beautiful  residence  is  this  ?"  asked  Norton. 

"  Mr.  Hughes',"  answered  Nellie,  with  a  smile. 

"  Mr.  Hughes1 !     I  thought  he  lived  in  the  old  tannery." 

"This  was  the  old  tannery." 

"  I ;  it  possible !     Is  Mr.  Hughes  rich  ?" 

"  They  say  so.  But  here  is  the  gentleman  himself,"  she 
added,  in  a  lower  tone. 

Mr.  Hughes  was  just  coming  out  of  the  gate  (his  wagon 
stood  before  it  in  waiting),  but  returned  to  the  house  with 
the  visitors.  Plain,  simple,  intelligent  George  Hughes,  and 
pretty,  sensible,  sprightly  Hetty  Hughes,  made  a  most  favor- 
able impression  upon  Mr.  Norton  Lee,  and  from  that  day 
grew  rapidly  into  the  place  in  his  heart,  occupied  by  few,  of 
particular  friends. 

When  they  returned  to  Truro,  Perry  had  not,  as  they 
hoped,  made  his  appearance.  It  would  not  do  to  defer  their 
excursion  to  the  woods  till  a  later  hour.  They  went  with- 
out him.  Miss  Brown  with  her  little  pupils,  Robert  and 
Hetty,  accompanied  them. 

They  had  scarcely  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  when  they 
heard  the  pattering  of  horses'  feet  behind  them.  It  was  Mr. 
Murray  and  his  servant  man,  riding  at  full  speed.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  was  by  their  side,  having  reined  in  his  horse, 
alighted,  thrown  the  bridle  to  his  servant,  and  asked  permis- 
sion to  join  them  in  their  walk,  almost  before  they  were 
awaro  of  hi?  presence.  Nellie  would  rather  he  had  staid 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  273 

behind,  but  as  he  talked  to  Norton,  and  not  to  herself,  and 
talked  very  sensibly  too,  she  had  not  much  reason  to  re- 
gret it. 

The  day  was  fine,  tlie  air  bracing,  the  conversation  enter- 
taining, and  all  in  the  best  spirits.  The  children  were  hilari- 
ous, and  when  nearly  home  on  their  return,  threw  out  a 
general  challenge  to  a  race,  which  was  immediately  accepted 
by  Mr.  Norton.  Nellie  would  have  joined  it,  too,  and  prob- 
ably have  won  it,  but  discovered  at  that  moment  the  loss  of 
an  India  scarf  she  had  loosened  from  her  throat.  She  was 
sure  it  was  not  long  gone ;  she  would  go  back  and  find  it ; 
Mr.  Murray  insisted  upon  accompanying  her.  The  scarf  was 
found,  they  returned  leisurely  to  the  house,  and  arrived  there 
about  a  half  hour  after  the  rest  of  the  party,  just  in  time  to 
present  themselves  at  the  dinner-table.  Mr.  Murray  made 
himself  very  agreeable  in  that  half-hour  walk. 

At  the  dinner-table  Perry  and  she  were  so  widely  separ- 
ated that  they  could  not  talk  together,  but  as  the  conversa- 
tion was  general,  she  could  hear  him  talk,  and  observe  that 
he  talked  well.  The  same  free,  unconstrained,  hearty  way  of 
talking,  that  always  characterized  him,  was  still  his ;  so  easy 
and  so  like  him,  that  Nellie  did  not  at  first  detect  the  un- 
usual depth  of  tone  in  many  of  his  sentiments,  and  the  happy 
facility  of  expression  with  which  they  were  uttered. 

Helen  lingered  in  the  dining-room,  after  the  ladies  had 
withdrawn.  Perry's  expected  visit  to  Europe  was  the  subject 
of  conversation  ;  it  led  to  the  discussion  of  European  politics, 
and  Perry  spoke  little,  but  played  the  interested  listener, 
while  Mr.  Lee  uttered  his  oracles.  The  influence  of  Euro- 
pean hierarchies  on  European  politics  brought  out  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, and  Mr.  Lee  subsided  into  a  listener ;  for  when  Mr. 

12* 


274  PLANTS     WELL     ROOTED, 

Murray  chose  to  converse,  few  men  of  taste  or  sense  would 
venture  to  interrupt.  But  the  subject  soon  branched  off  into 
the  state  of  practical  religion  among  the  masses,  and  the  ten- 
dency on  religious  habits  of  tin,  popular  opinions  and  prevail- 
ing  philosophies  of  the  day ;  here  Norton  was  the  chief 
speaker,  and  the  vein  of  skepticism  in  which  he  ever  spoke 
on  these  subjects,  was  painfully  apparent.  Nellie  observed 
with  sorrow  that  her  father  listened  too  eagerly  to  all  that 
Norton  said,  and  when  Perry  sometimes  ventured  an  answer, 
too  courteous  and  full  of  Christian  feeling  to  be  lightly  par- 
ried, Nellie  saw  that  her  father  looked  more  annoyed  than 
pleased.  Mr.  Murray,  as  the  conversation  assumed  more  and 
more  of  a  religious  tone,  grew  indifferent,  and  at  last  lighted 
a  cigar,  selected  a  book,  and  sought  a  seat  nearer  the  win- 
dow ;  but  as  he  turned  to  take  his  seat,  he  discovered  Nellie 
who  all  this  while  had  been  unobserved.  At  once  his  cigar, 
his  book,  and  his  chair  by  the  window  were  discarded,  and 
coming  back  to  where  she  sat,  he  began  talking  to  her. 

As  she  could  no  longer  listen  to  what  most  interested  her, 
she  soon  left  the  dining-room  for  the  parlor.  Mr.  Murray  fol- 
lowed her,  but  it  was  not  long  before  she  managed  to  slip 
away  from  him,  and,  with  the  purpose  of  resuming  her  post 
as  a  listener,  returned  to  the  dialog-room  and  found  it  de- 
serted. She  went  to  the  library:  her  father  and  Norton 
were  there. 

"  Where  is  Perry  ?"  she  asked. 

"  He  has  gone  again  to  that  parsonage,"  answered  Mr. 
Lee,  with  some  ill-humor,  "  he  said  he  was  engaged  there  to 
tea." 

Nellie's  dissatisfied  "  Oh !"  at  this  piece  of  information  did 
not  seem  to  mean  much,  but  the  echo  of  it  kept  ringing  in 


TRIED     AND     APPROVED.  275 

her  ears  for  an  hour  or  two  afterward  and  would  not  let  her 
give  undivided  attention  to  any  thing  she  undertook. 

It  was  still  early  in  the  evening  when  Perry  returned  to 
Truro.  There  were  so  many  to  engage  him  in  conversation, 
that  Nellie  found  no  chance  for  the  one,  good,  old-fashioned 
talk,  she  had  been  longing  for  :  she  could  only  listen. 

"  Mr.  Seymour,  did  you  ever  meet  Mr.  Sidney  Smith  Par- 
sons, Pastor  of  St.  Cruciform  Church  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Gracie 
Darling. 

"  I  have  not  had  that  pleasure." 

"  I  must  introduce  you,  when  you  return  from  Europe. 
It  will  be  such  an  advantage  to  you.  His  manners  are  so 
polished.  Do  you  know,  I  think  ministers  mingle  too  little 
with  the  world  ?"  she  suggested  in  her  blandest  way. 

"With  the  gay,  the  fashionable  world,  you  mean,  of 
course  ?" 

"  Yes.  How  do  you  account  for  it,  Mr.  Seymour  ?  To 
me  it  is  inexplicable  why  the  best  men  should  avoid  the  best 
society,  and  that  when  their  mingling  in  it  would  be  so 
highly  beneficial.  Now  there  is  dear  Mr.  Parsons,  it  is  sur- 
prising how  his  influence  is  enhanced  by  the  intimacies  he 
cultivates  with  the  polite  circles  of  the  gay  world.  So  often 
I  have  heard  it  said,  '  Mr.  Parsons  is  a  sensible  man.  He  is 
a  gentleman  !'  That  being  '  a  gentleman]  Mr.  Seymour,  goes 
a  great  way  in  ministerial  influence." 

"  I  think  you  laid  it  down  as  a  fact,  that  ministers  gen- 
erally do  not  mingle  freely  with  the  world  ?"  said  Perry  in- 
quiringly. 

"Yes." 

"The  great  mass  of  the  best,  wisest  and  most  excellent 


276  PLANTS  WELL  ROOTED, 

ministers  have  seemed  to  shrink  from  intimate  associations 
with  the  gay  and  fashionable  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  a  pity,  but  they  do,"  was  the  answer. 

"  If  this  be  the  case,  Mrs.  Darling,  I  suspect  a  fact  so  uni- 
versal and  well  established  can  only  be  accounted  for  on  the 
principle  of  repellant  forces.  Something  in  the  nature  of 
things  must  forbid  the  commingling  of  the  world  and  good 
ministers.  I  am  a  strong  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  affini- 
ties :  chemical  combinations  are  not  more  under  their  laws 
than  social." 

"  I  do  not  see  how  that  can  be,"  answered  Mrs.  Darling. 
"  There  is  sin  every  where  and  ministers  must  meet  it.  They 
visit  freely  enough  among  the  poor  and  degraded  and  see 
among  them  more  open  sin — if  that  repels  them — than  they 
would  ever  discover  in  the  higher  circles." 

"  If  they  see  more,"  answered  Perry,  "  do  you  think  they 
feel  more?  The  one  may  be  visibly  repulsive,  the  other 
they  may  know  to  be  invisibly  insidious  and  attractive.  The 
one  they  merely  look  upon,  the  other  they  could  not  come 
in  contact  with  without  participating  in  it." 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understand  you :  but  I  am  sure  that 
ministers  indulge  very  narrow  prejudices  in  these  matters. 
You  never  will,  I  hope,  Mr.  Seymour.  You  do  not  seem 
like  a  minister  at  all.  I  always  thought  I  could  tell  a  min- 
ister a  mile  off — and  divinity  students  are  more  intensely 
ministerial  than  ministers  themselves !  But  I  should  never 
suspect  you."  (The  lady  meant  to  be  veiy  complimentary ; 
why  did  Perry  look  so  grave  and  disheartened  ?)  "  Your 
trip  to  Europe  at  any  rate  will  liberalize  you.  If  it  does  not, 
we  must  try  what  Mr.  Sidney  Smith  Parsons  can  do  for 
you." 


TRIED,     AND     APPROVED.  277 

The  conversation  about  ministers  became  general,  and  led 
to  the  discussion  of  pulpit  performances.  Many  names,  dis- 
tinguished for  eloquence,  or  celebrated  for  pulpit  eccentricity, 
were  mentioned,  and  many  anecdotes  were  told. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Norton,  when  the  subject  was  about 
exhausted,  "  I  have  heard  nearly  all  of  the  pulpit  celebrities 
in  this  country  and  many  in  Europe,  but  I  never  heard  one 
who,  for  sound  sense,  simplicity,  earnestness,  and  propriety  of 
diction  and  manner,  seemed  to  be  more  exactly  what  a 
preacher  ought  to  be,  if  he  believes  the  gospel  and  has  faith 
in  his  own  office,  than  the  old  pastor  of  the  church  of  Cedar- 
ville,  our  Mr.  Poole  !" 

All  had  listened  Avith  anxious  interest  to  hear  who  this 
paragon  of  ministerial  excellence,  in  the  judgment  of  such  a 
skeptical  critic,  could  possibly  be,  and  when  at  last  the 
name  was  mentioned,  it  produced  a  sensible  impression. 
"  The  old  pastor  of  the  church  of  Cedarville,  our  Mr.  Poole  !" 
who  could  forget  him !  Which  one  did  not  recall  some  ten- 
der and  affectionate  word  which  he  had  spoken  or  some 
affecting  incident  in  which  he  was  an  actor.  A  moment  of 
silence  ensued.  Mr.  Lee,  especially,  seemed  moved ;  and 
impelled  by  the  recollection  of  the  old  pastor's  usage,  he  ex- 
tended his  hand  to  the  large  Bible  that  lay  on  the  table  be- 
side which  he  sat,  and  before  a  word  was  spoken,  requested 
the  young  candidate  for  the  ministry  to  offer  up  with  the 
family  an  evening  prayer. 

For  ten  months  the  reading  of  God's  word  and  the  voice 
of  prayer,  had  not  been  heard  by  the  assembled  family  of 
Truro.  How  powerfully  did  it  revive  old  associations  and 
carry  back  every  mind  and  heart  to  the  solemn  thoughts 
which  it  had  been  the  design  of  the  gayeties  of  the  past  sum- 


278  PLANTS     WELL     ROOTED,     ETC. 

mer  to  disperse  and  obliterate.  One  short  passage  from 
God's  word,  and  one  earnest  prayer,  sent  that  worldly  house- 
hold to  thoughtful  pillows  that  night. 

Perry  announced  his  intention  of  leaving  by  the  stage 
early  in  the  morning,  and  proceeded  to  bid  all  good-by. 
Warm  wishes  were  uttered  for  his  happy  voyage  and  return. 
All  hearts  were  turned  affectionately  toward  him  that  night. 
Even  Norton  hesitated  to  insist  on  the  delivery  of  his  let- 
ters, for,  as  he  afterward  said,  "it  was  a  pity  to  spoil  one, 
who  might,  if  ignorant  of  philosophy,  grow  up  into  the  re- 
semblance of  Mr.  Poole." 

Nellie  alone  refused  to  say  good-by ;  promising  herself  the 
pleasure  of  giving  him  a  cup  of  coffee  in  the  morning. 


XXIX. 

Sunrise:  tire  Sprig  0f  $*ntilitn  Starts. 

"This  sunny  morning,  Boger,  chearsmy  blood, 
An'  puts  a'  nature  in  a  jovial  mood. 
How  heartsome  'tis  to  see  the  rising  plants ! 
To  hear  the  birds  chirm  o'er  their  pleasing  rants ! 
How  halesome  it 's  to  snuff  the  canler  air, 
An'  a'  the  sweets  it  bears,  when  void  o'  care ! 
What  ails  thee,  Eoger,  then  ?  what  gars  thee  grane 
Tell  me  the  cause  o'  thy  ill-seasoned  pain." 

ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

TT  was  early  twilight  when  Perry  came  down  stairs,  the 
-*•  next  morning.  The  house  had  a  forlorn,  cheerless  aspect, 
as  seen  at  that  dull,  dusky,  still,  and  chilly  hour.  A  glim- 
mer of  light  from  the  tea-room  gave  him  some  assurance  of 
breakfast,  but  did  not  prepare  him  for  the  bright  vision 
which  broke  upon  him,  when  he  opened  the  door — a  wood 
fire  blazing  on  the  hearth ;  on  the  table,  lighted  candles,  a 
hot  breakfast,  and  fresh  flowers  exquisitely  selected  and  ar- 
ranged ;  but  brightest  and  loveliest  of  all,  Nellie  herself  pre- 
siding as  the  genius  of  the  place.  How  pleased  Perry  looked, 
how  happy  Nellie ! 

"  You  have  taken  too  much  trouble,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
often  rise  so  early  ?" 

"  I  was  earlier  than  usual  this  morning.  But  I  am  always 
up  by  this  time.  Perry !  it  is  so  pleasant  to  have  you  here ! 
But  come,  you  must  eat  now  and  we  will  talk  afterward,  or 
you  may  lose  your  breakfast." 


280  SUNRISE: 

"  Does  not  this  remind  you  of  old  times,"  she  said,  after 
she  had  performed  the  engrossing  duties  of  preparing  his 
coffee  and  had  seen  that  his  plate  was  well  supplied,  "  when 
we  were  children  and  used  to  play  tea  together  in  your 
mother's  little  room  ?  What  nice  times  those  were.  How 
I  wish  we  could  see  each  other  oftener.  I  have  often  longed 
for  you,  Perry." 

Perry  looked  too  pleased .  to  speak :  and  after  a  moment's 
pause  she  added, 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  Europe,  because  it  is  for 
your  good ;  and  yet  I  am  sorry  too,  for  it  must  be  so  long 
before  you  come  to  Truro  again." 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  doubt  if  I  stay  more  than  three  months 
in  Europe.  I  do  not  know,  though :  Mr.  Sickles  insists  upon 
ray  spending  a  year  there  at  least." 

"  Oh,  do.     You  will  enjoy  it  so  much." 

"  A  year  may  witness  many  changes,"  said  Perry,  thought 
fully. 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  whether  you  go  or  stay,"  she  answered,  and 
both  grew  thoughtful  together. 

There  was  another  cup  of  coffee  to  be  poured  out,  and  then 
Nellie  glanced  at  the  clock  and  saw  that  there  was  no  time 
to  lose.  Her  bonnet  and  shawl  were  at  hand,  and  throwing 
them  on,  she  ran  out,  while  Perry  ate  his  last  morsel,  to  see 
that  Caesar  had  carried  his  baggage  to  the  gate.  In  a  few 
moments  she  returned  again,  with  a  basket  of  fruit  and 
flowers  for  his  mother,  and  one  little  pot  in  it,  a  new  species 
of  rose,  for  Mr.  Sickles,  "  if  it  would  not  trouble  Perry  to 
carry  it." 

The  sun  was  rising.  The  trees  were  borne  down  with  the 
dew.  a  burden  of  glittering  jewels.  The  lower  branches  of 


THE     SPRIG     OF     GENTILITY     ODOROUS.       28! 

the  maples  and  lindens  fairly  laid  upon  the  ground  under 
the  heavy  pressure,  and  the  solid  masses  of  moist  foliage 
made  the  English  elms  look  as  if  covered  with  embroidered 
cloths  of  silver,  green  and  gold.  Large  branches  of  chry- 
sa&thimums,  clusters  of  altheas,  and  showy  dahlias  were  now 
set  in  brilliants.  Every  thing  was  bright  and  dazzlingly 
beautiful. 

"  What  a  splendid  day !"  said  Nellie. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Perry.  "  I  ought  not  to  feel  happy, 
when  I  am  going  away ;  but  I  do !  It  seems  as  if  dark 
clouds  had  broken  and  tears  ware  sparkling  in  the  smiles  of 
new-born  joys." 

"  Does  it  ?"  asked  Nellie,  with  naivete  :  her  mind  was  al- 
most always  sunshine.  "Have  you  had  any  thing  to 
trouble  you  lately,  Perry?"  she  asked  with  earnest  sym- 
pathy. 

"  Yes,  something,  Nellie — " 

"  How  good  it  is  to  hear  you  call  me  '  Nellie,'  again,"  she 
interrupted.  "  I  could  not  call  you  by  any  other  name  than 
'  Perry,'  if  I  tried  ;  though  you  are  a  man  now,  and  almost  a 
minister." 

Perry  looked  gratified  and  laid  his  hand  on  the  little  one 
that  rested  on  his  arm. 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  what  troubled  you  ?"  she 
added,  with  an  expression  of  concern. 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing,  at  least,  nothing  now.  The  mere 
clouding  over  of  a  hope  that  it  was  foolish,  perhaps,  ever 
to  entertain,  and  a  fear  that  the  blight  had  touched  a  fair 
flower — " 

"  Please  do  not  talk  so  poetically,"  said  Nellie,  laughingly 
"  Tell  me  in  plain  English  what  has  been  the  matter." 


282  s  TIN  RISE: 

"  I  must  not  tell  you,  Nellie.  At  least,  not  now  :  perhaps 
never." 

"  Can  you  not  ?  I  am  sorry.  But  you  say  your  trouble 
is  over  now  ?" 

"  It  is  lightened." 

''  And  I  can  do  nothing  to  make  it  lighter  ?" 

"  Yes.  To  know  that  you  are  happy  and  pure  in  heart 
will  always  make  any  trouble  of  mine  lighter,  Nellie." 

"  I  believe  it,  Perry,  for  it  always  used  to  be  so.  But  here 
we  are  at  the  stile  and  I  hear  the  stage." 

That  stile  !  They  could  not  sit  down  upon  it  now,  as  in 
the  old  times,  for  it  was  wet  with  dew  and  the  stage  was 
coming  at  full  speed. 

"  Perry,  do  you  remember  how  we  sat  here  that  day 
you  first  told  me  about  your  being  a  Christian  and 
studying  for  the  ministry  ?  How  near  together  that  seemed 
to  draw  us !" 

"  Very  near,  Nellie !" 

"  How  puzzled  I  was  at  first  to  know  what  you  meant, 
and  then  how  sagely,  I,  a  little  pert  girl,  gave  you  my  ad- 
vice !" 

"  It  was  very  good  advice,  Nellie,  and  has  been  of  service, 
I  think.  Yet  sometimes  I  doubt — .  Did  you  hear  your 
sister  say  last  night  she  would  never  suspect  me  of  being 
a  minister  ?  I  did  not  know  whether  to  take  it  as  a  rebuke 
or  not." 

"  Why,  she  meant  it  as  a  compliment,  Perry,  she  only 
referred  to  the  absence  of  a  certain  ministerial  air,  which  is 
disagreeable  because  any  professional  mannerism  is  so.  She 
did  not  mean  that  there  was  any  such  levity  of  manner  as  is 
inconsistent  with  the  idea  of  a  good  minister !" 


SPRIU     OF     GENTILITY     ODOROUS.  283 

"Do  you  think  that  is  all?  I  do  not  mean  lair  that 
she  meant :  I  know  what  she  meant.  But  all  in  truth  !" 

"  Yes  !  I  am  sure  of  it,  Perry  !" 

The  stage  had  already  dashed  up  and  stopped  to  receive 
its  passengers,  before  these  words  were  spoken.  At  the 
same  moment  Mr.  Murray's  voice  was  heard,  shouting  "  Mr. 
Seymour,  Mr.  Seymour."  Perry  stood  with  one  foot  on  the 
step  and  waited  for  an  explanation  of  this  unexpected  sum- 
mons. Mr.  Murray  came  up,  out  of  breath. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  as  well  as  he  could,  "  are  the  letters  I 
promised  you.  I  neglected  writing  them  till  last  night  and 
liked  to  have  missed  giving  them  to  you  after  all." 

Nellie  looked  so  gratified.  Perry  thanked  him,  said 
good-by,  sprang  into  the  stage  and  was  whirled  away. 
When  he  glanced  back,  Mr.  Murray  and  Nellie  stood  on  the 
stile,  in  earnest  conversation,  and  Nellie's  face  was  glowing 
with  happiness.  They  were  talking  about  Perry.  Mr.  Mur- 
ray was  praising  him. 

On  his  arrival  in  New  York,  Perry  was  surprised  to  find 
his  brother  Albert  at  home.  He  had  been  there  a  week. 
Scarcely  had  Perry  exchanged  the  first  words  with  him  and 
his  mother,  when  Mr.  Sickles'  familiar  tramp  was  heard  in 
the  hall.  The  door  of  the  little  room  burst  open,  and  there 
was  Mr.  Sickles,  goggles  and  all. 

"  Bah  !  what  an  odor  !"  he  exclaimed,  throwing  the  door 
wide  open  and  advancing  to  the  window  and  opening  that. 
"  My  dear  Mrs.  Seymour  you  will  die  if  you  live  in  such  an 
atmosphere.  All  the  cosmetics  of  Paris  are  here !" 

"  She  will  die  if  she  live !  When  did  you  become  a  Hiber- 
nian, sir?" 


284  SUNRISE: 

"  Why,  Perry  !  where  did  you  come  from  ?"  the  goggles 
were  thrown  off.  "  I  hope  you  '11  not  catch  cold  from  that 
window ;  but  since  Albert,  Esq.,  has  returned,  he  fills  the 
whole  house  with  his  Parisian  extracts.  Have  you  seen 
him  yet  ?"  Mr.  Sickles  perversely  kept  his  back  to  the  cor- 
ner of  the  sofa  where  Albert  reclined  with  an  air  of  exquisite 
indifference.  "  He  is  splendidly  made  up !  His  mustache 
is  blue-black,  and  his  shirts  and  frills  and  cuffs,  and  his 
coats  and  vests  and  pants,  and  his  robes-de-chambre,  in  innu- 
merable quantities  and  of  the  most  superb  elegance  !  He  is 
an  honor  to  the  family ;  as  good  as  a  patent  of  nobility ; 
for  no  one  but  a  nobleman— or  a  nobleman's  valet — ever 
dressed  in  such  style.  Then  his  handkerchiefs ! — he  brought 
his  mother,  generous  fellow  ! — half-a-dozen,  with  her  initials 
in  cypher ;  but  these  are  nothing  to  his  own — "  at  this  last 
speech,  Albert  made  a  sudden  move  which  brought  Mr. 
Sickles  to  the  face  about 

"  Bless  me !  Mr.  Seymour — you  there  ?  I  would  not  have 
praised  you  to  your  face,  had  I  known  it." 

"  I  presume  not,  sir,  as  you  did  not  speak  to  my  face." 

"No,  indeed,  I  could  not  have  been  so  bold.  But  I 
must  say  you  are  a  lucky  fellow.  How  sorry  I  am,  I  was 
not  a  lawyer.  We  merchants  can  not  stand  such  expenses. 
Now,  when  I  was  as  young  in  the  counting-room,  as  Mr. 
Seymour  is  at  the  bar,  I  lived  on  four  hundred  dollars  a 
year:  but,  I  suppose  he  would  think  nothing  of  spending 
twice  that  sum  in  the  single  item  of  clothes  !" 

"  You  have  asked  me  nothing  about  Truro,  Mr.  Sickles," 
said  Perry,  who  had  watched  for  a  chance  to  divert  Mr. 
Sickles  from  his  unworthy  victim. 

"  How  is  that  fairy  ?"     And  the  whole  expression  of  his 


SPRIG     OF     GENTILITY     ODOROUS.  285 

countenance  changed,  so  that  Nellie  herself  would  have  been 
confirmed  in  the  opinion  she  often  expressed,  that  there  were 
two  Mr.  Sickles. 

"  She  is  well,  happy,  beautiful,  and  good  as  ever,"  Perry 
answered.  "  And  she  sent  to  her  old  friend  this  little  rose- 
plant,  a  new  species,  which  she  thinks  you  will  fancy." 

"  Did  she  ?  Oh,  the  witch.  What  do  you  suppose,  Mrs. 
Seymour,  she  expects  me  to  send  her  in  return  ?  Something 
handsome  and  that  costs  money,  of  course,"  and  Mr.  Sickles 
shook  his  head  at  the  imaginary  waste  of  money. 

"  She  expects  nothing  at  all,  Mr.  Sickles.  How  can  you 
talk  so !" 

Miss  Electa  Van  Home's  appearance  at  that  moment,  ren- 
dered it  unnecessary  to  take  further  notice  of  Mrs.  Seymour's 
simple-hearted  protest. 

"  Well,  Perry,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Sickles,  after  Miss  Van 
Home's  greetings  were  duly  concluded,  "  have  you  offered 
yourself  ?  Did  you  enter  into  preliminary  bonds,  as  I  told 
you,  you  must  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  he  answered,  certainly  with  cheerfulness;  but 
Miss  Van  Home  turned  upon  him  a  look  which  showed  that 
«he  was  determined  to  pity  him.  "  No,  sir.  I  presume,  I 
am  forestalled.  You  know  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  ?" 

"  Langdon  Murray !  Was  he  at  Truro  ?  and  a  beau  of 
Nellie's  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Poor  Perry,  I  am  afraid  it's  all  up  with  you !" 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is,  sir,"  said  Perry,  laughing  gayly. 

"  If  she  likes  Langdon  Murray,"  said  Mr.  Sickles,  deliber- 
atively,  "I  can  not  find  fault  with  her.  He  is  almost  wor- 
thy— even  of  her ;  and  that 's  saying  more  than  I  would  of 


286  SUNRISE: 

any  one  else  but  you,  Perry.  However,  she  is  young. 
Don't  give  up  heart,  my  boy.  Mrs.  Seymour,"  he  added, 
turning  to  that  lady,  "  I  shall  change  my  boarding-house 
next  month,  if  you  allow  your  sons  to  bring  me  any  more  of 
these  presents,  that  are  expected  to  be  paid  back  again  with 
interest." 

"  Mr.  Sickles,"  began  Mrs.  Seymour,  with  a  deprecatory 
voice.  But  Mr.  Sickles  had  taken  up  the  flower-pot,  with  as 
gentle  care  as  if  it  had  been  Nellie  herself,  and  stalked  out  of 
the  room,  before  she  could  finish  the  sentence.  Perry  fol- 
lowed him. 

Miss  Van  Home  was  dusting,  for  the  fortieth  time  that 
day,  the  books  and  furniture,  with  a  silk  handkerchief.  Each 
successive  article  she  took  up,  she  dusted  with  increased  ve- 
hemence and  laid  down  with  more  noise.  The  fire  was  burn- 
ing in  her  heart ;  Mrs.  Seymour  waited,  with  a  good-natured 
smile,  for  the  explosion. 

"Hum  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Van  Home,  as  she  replaced  the 
last  china  vase  on  the  mantle-piece. 

She  turned  to  the  stand  on  which  the  Bible  and  Hymn- 
book  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  lay.  These  mollified 
her,  perhaps,  for  when  she  had  carefully  adjusted  both,  she 
only  uttered  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Electa  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Seymour. 

There  was  a  repetition  of  the  sigh.  And  then  as  she 
crossed  the  room  and  her  eye  naturally  fell  on  the  portrait  of 
the  late  Captain  Seymour,  there  was  a  reiteration  of  the  first 
expressive  "  Hum !" 

No  one  asked  again  what  was  the  matter,  though  the  dis- 
agreeable interjection  was  several  times  repented.  At  last 
Miss  Van  Home  came  close  up  to  Mrs.  Seymour,  and  while 


SPRIG     OF     GENTILITY     ODOROUS.  287 

busy  dusting  the  next    chair,  soliloquized    to  herself,  loud 
enough  for  Mrs.  Seymour  to  hear — 

"  Another  heart's  to  be  broken,  through  a  girl's  folly. 
Women's  counsel 's  nothing.  Electa  Van  Home's  not  worth 
consulting.  Silly  girls  must  have  their  way.  But  retribu- 
tion comes.  The  mother  suffers  in  her  son,  what  she — " 

"  Electa !"  The  voice  was  so  gentle,  so  meek,  so  entreat- 
ing. It  would  have  melted  another  nature  than  Miss  Van 
Home's.  It  only  drew  another  "  Hum  !"  from  her  and  sent 
her  out  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Seymour  uttered  one  or  two  sighs  herself,  now,  as  she 
sat  there  in  the  deepening  twilight,  and  wiped  away  a  tear  or 
two  that  strayed  down  her  cheek.  Albert  lay  on  the  sofa, 
revolving  his  own  thoughts,  too  self-interested  to  have  eyes 
or  ears  for  other  people. 

"  Mother,"  he  said  at  last,  "  about  an  office — " 
"  You  can  not  rent  one,  Albert,"  said  his  mother,  quickly, 
"  unless  it  is  very  much  cheaper  than  the  last  you  occupied. 
This  unfortunate  trip  of  yours  to  Europe  has  involved  us — " 

"  Mother,"  interrupted  Albert,  "  I  want  to  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion. It  is  very  desirable  that  I  should  know  what  our  pros- 
pects are." 

"Well  ?"  said  Mrs.  Seymour  mechanically. 
"  Mother,  there 's  no  use  of  my  trying  to  make  any  thing 
out  of  the  law,  I'm  convinced  of  that,  though  it  is  proper  for 
the  sake  of  appearances,  that  I  should  have  an  office  and 
seem  to  be  in  business.     There's  no  use,  either,  of  your  try- 
ing to  make  any  thing  out  of  this  boarding-house." 
"  If  you,  Albert,  spent  less — ' 

"  Now,  dear  mother,  don't  begin  that  old  story.  I  am  des- 
perately fconomical :  a  young  nmn  in  my  position  could  not 


288  SUNRISE: 

be  more  so.  But,  dear  mother,  what  I  want  to  say  is,  that 
either  you,  or  I,  must  get  a  fortune  by  marrying." 

"  /  get  married !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Seymour,  in  frightened 
amazement. 

"  Dear  mother,  there 's  no  use  of  making  a  fuss  about  it, 
If  you  are  in  the  way  of  getting  a  fortune,  there 's  no  use  of 
my  being  in  a  hurry  about  it ;  but  if  not,  why  then  I  must 
be  looking  out  for  myself." 

"  Albert,  how  can  you  talk  so  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Seymour 
indignantly. 

"  Mother,  there  's  no  harm  in  talking.  I  only  want  to 
ask  a  single  question,  whether  or  no  you  mean  to  marry 
Mr. " 

"  I  mean  to  marry  no  one,  sir,"  cried  Mrs.  Seymour,  rising 
to  leave  the  room,  and  then  turning  to  her  lazy  son  who 
remained  unmoved  on  the  sofa,  *'  were  there  no  other  ob- 
jection, never  would  I  suffer  you  to  supply  your  extravagance 
out  of  another  man's  hard  earnings,"  and  she  left  the  room ; 
nor  was  she  seen  again  that  night  by  any  of  the  family. 
From  that  day,  Mrs.  Seymour's  affectionate  endurance  of  her 
sou's  idleness  and  thriftlessness,  ceased,  and  she  indignantly 
tolerated  what  it  was  too  late  to  rectify. 

Albert,  insensible  himself,  had  no  conception  of  the  pain 
he  had  given.  He  quietly  pursued  his  own  reflections.  He 
must  renew  his  search  after  a  rich  wife.  He  had  heard  what 
was  said  of  Helen  Lee's  beauty.  The  worldly  sister  had  re- 
jected him,  to  be  sure ;  but  this  child — Avould  she  not  be 
captivated  by  the  handsome  tourist  just  returned  from  the 
Continent  ?  Would  he  not  appear  a  very  Adonis  in  personal 
charms,  a  Beau  Brummel  in  attire,  and  a  Chesterfield  in  ac- 
r-omjdishments,  to  her  rustic  tastes?  Now  was  his  time, 


SPRIG     OF     GENTILITY     ODOROUS.  289 

while  his  wardrobe  was  new,  the  dreary  winter  approaching, 
and  Mr.  Murray  and  other  competitors  absent.  It  was  de- 
sirable too  that  he  should  be  away  from  the  city  for  awhile ; 
since  he  could  not  rent  a  costly  office,  and  seem  to  be 
doing  an  immense  business,  it  was  best  that  the  world  either 
should  not  know  of  his  return,  or  should  suppose  that  he 
was  enjoying  relaxation  after  his  arduous  labors,  or,  possibly, 
had  no  need  to  increase  his  fortune.  He  would  go  to  Truro. 


13 


XXX. 

dntteH  gtatt*  aiifc  tillage  §HUs. 


"  We  fabricate  spruce  dandy  noddies, 
With  souls  adapted  to  their  bodies, 
To  wit,  so  exquisite1}"  small 
They  might  as  well  have  none  at  all." 

CHBISTOPHER  CAUSTIC. 


the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  Perry  left  Truro, 
when  Norton  was  closeted  with  his  father  in  the  library, 
Helen  strolled  down  to  the  Tannery.  Kitty  White,  the 
village  dressmaker,  entered  the  gate  just  before  her.  Not 
caring  to  encounter  Kitty,  nor  interfere  with  any  business 
she  might  have  come  upon,  Nellie  passed  down  the  path  by 
the  brook,  and  came  to  the  green-house  :  she  found  the  door 
unfastened  and  entered.  The  glass  door  into  the  room 
which  was  once  both  kitchen  and  sitting-room,  was  open, 
and  Nellie  could  hear  the  voices  of  Mrs.  Hughes  and  Kitty 
White.  The  former  was  trying  on  a  new  dress,  and  Kitty, 
while  she  pinned  and  cut  and  criticised  the  dress,  was  re- 
peating with  faultless  fluency  all  the  gossip  of  the  village. 
Helen  listened  because  she  was  amused  at  the  tact  and  volu- 
bility which  could  run  on  with  a  connected  story,  while 
every  other  sentence  or  word  had  some  reference  to  the  new 
dress.  Soon,  however,  she  began  to  listen  with  another  kind 
of  interest. 

"  Have  you  seen  Cinthy  Stryker  ? — There,  how  does  thai 


GENTEEL     BEAUX,     ETC.  291 

feel  under  the  arm  now  ? — I  have ;  saw  her  yesterday. — Is 
that  too  long? — Knew  she  would  bring  the  fashions  with 
her;  Cinthy  loves  dress  if  she  is  so  pious. — Shall  I  take 
another  fold  here  ? — I  went  straight  in  without  knocking,  as 
I  always  do,  but  was  dreadful  sorry  I  did.  There  sat  Cinthy 
at  the  piano-forte,  and  such  a  handsome,  tall  gentleman 
standing  and  bending  over  her  and  talking  so  earnestly, 
strumming  all  the  while  with  one  hand  on  the  keys,  a  little 
nervous-like  I  think. — This  skirt  will  not  hang  good  yet. — 
I  would  have  gone  out,  if  I  could.  But  Cinthy  heard  me 
and  turned  round.  Oh,  how  she  blushed,  clear  up  to  the 
roots  of  her  red  hair,  till  she  was  all  red.  I  thought  to  my- 
self, you  must  be  dreadfully  in  love  if  you  admire  that  red 
face. — There,  that's  all,  Mrs.  Hughes.  I'll  have  it  done 
next  week. — She  introduced  him,  but  I  did  n't  hear  what 
name  she  called  him.  I  did  n't  stay  loug  neither.  I  ex- 
cused myself  and  went  out  into  the  kitchen.  Knew  Mrs. 
Stryker  'd  tell  me  all,  if  there  was  any  thing  to  tell. — Shall  I 
put  two  rows  of  trimming  round  the  sleeves  ?" 

"  No  ;  one  will  be  enough." 

"  Where  's  my  hat  ?  Here  it  is.  But  I  must  tell  you 
first  what  Mrs.  Stryker  said."  Here  Kitty,  having  assisted 
Mrs.  Hughes  in  removing  the  new  dress  and  putting  on 
another,  rolled  up  the  new  one  into  a  bundle  that  she  could 
carry  conveniently  through  the  street,  and  put  on  her  own 
hat  and  shawl,  without  pausing  in  her  story,  took  a  seat  and 
proceeded  more  deliberately. 

"  When  I  went  into  the  kitchen,  there  was  Mrs.  Stryker 
making  pound-cake.  '  Making  pound-cake  in  the  morning, 
Mrs.  Stryker,  and  dinner  for  all  them  boys  to  get  ?'  says  I. 
'  Yes,'  she  says.  '  Expect  tea  company,  I  guess,'  said  I.  She 


292  GENTEEL    BEAUX, 

nodded.  '  That  gentleman  in  the  parlor  ?'  She  nodded 
again.  '  Who  is  he,  Mrs.  Stryker  ?'  I  asked  right  out,  for 
she  seemed  so  busy,  I  was  afraid  I  was  n't  going  to  hear 
But  she  wanted  to  tell,  as  much  as  I  did  to  hear ;  for  she 
right  up  and  told  me  all  off.  She  said  the  gentleman,  for 
he  is  a  gentleman,  was  Mr.  Seymour  :  that  same  Perry  Sey- 
mour that  used  to  come  to  Truro  when  a  boy  and  he 's  stay- 
ing at  Truro  now.  He  's  going  to  be  a  minister :  and  he 's 
got  an  old  uncle,  or  some  relative,  or  other,  who 's  im- 
mei-sely  rich  and  's  going  to  leave  him  all  his  fortune.  She 
said  they  were  n't  actually  engaged,  that  she  knew  of :  but 
seemed  to  think  it  would  not  be  very  long  before  they  were- 
Dear,  dear  !  what  a  strange  world  !  Just  to  think  of  Cinthy 
Stryker's  marrying  a  fortune,  and  she  so  homely !  Wish  it 
was  Margaret  Ball,  if  it  must  be  either.  She  'd  make  a 
better  minister's  wife,  too,  after  my  way  of  thinking,  if  Cin- 
thy is  so  pious. — But  now,  please,  Mrs.  Hughes,  I  want  to 
see  your  flowers.  May  I  ?" 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Hughes.  She  had  seen  Nellie, 
at  her  first  entrance,  and  they  had  exchanged  silent  recog- 
nitions ;  and  now,  obeying  Nellie's  deprecating  gestures,  she 
detained  Kitty  till  Nellie  could  escape.  Mrs.  Hughes  as- 
sured Kitty  White  that  she  did  not  believe  Mr.  Seymour  and 
Miss  Stryker  would  make  a  match,  (hat  the  former  had  no 
rich  uncle,  but  only  an  old  friend  of  his  mother's  who  was 
rich  and  very  kind  to  Mrs.  Seymour,  but  would,  probably, 
leave  his  fortune  to  his  own  relatives ;  and  she  begged  Kitty 
not  to  repeat  this  foolish  story,  and  Kitty  promised  that  she 
would  not. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  any  thing  so  absurd  as  all  that  uon- 


AND     VILLAGE     BELLES.  293 

sense  about  Mr.  Seymour  and  Cynthia  Stryker !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Hughes,  when  she  joined  Helen  in  the  parlor. 

"Never!"  responded  the  latter,  indignantly.  "And  yet, 
Cousin  Hetty,  there  is  something  very  queer  about  it  all, 
too." 

She  told  Mrs.  Hughes,  what  Mrs.  Stryker  had  said,  a  year 
before ;  and  how  Perry  had  proposed  staying  at  the  parson- 
age instead  of  at  Truro,  and  how  much  time  he  had  spent 
there. 

"  And  he  did,"  said  Nellie,  "  seem  to  have  something  on 
his  mind  that  troubled  him.  He  would  not  tell  me  what. 
Poor  fellow !  what  if  it  should  be — but  no !  it  can  not  be. 
It  is  impossible.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  sure  I 
feel  that  Perry  never,  never  could  be  involved  in  any  sort  of 
difficulty  in  that  quarter.  It  would  be  too  absurd !" 

Mrs.  Hughes,  however,  after  hearing  Nellie's  story,  could 
not  be  so  sure,  that  there  was  nothing  in  it.  Strange  things 
did  happen  sometimes. 

Perry's  visit  left  a  good  impression  at  Truro,  that  did  not 
wear  off  immediately ;  not,  at  least,  before  Sunday,  for  Sun- 
day morning,  Mrs.  Lee  and  Nellie  were  delighted  to  find 
themselves  accompanied  to  church  by  Mr.  Lee  and  Norton. 
The  Gaylords  and  Darlings  had  left  for  their  respective 
homes,  the  day  before,  and  Mr.  Murray  had  suddenly  taken 
his  departure  the  day  after  Perry  went. 

Mr.  Stryker  preached  one  of  his  denunciatory  sermons. 
The  village  was  given  up  to  sin  and  iniquity,  and  it  was  all 
owing  to  the  sloth  of  professors  of  religion.  They  needed  a 
revival ;  the  fact  that  there  was  not  a  revival  state  of  feeling 
in  the  church  was  evidence  of  the  desperate  wickedness  of 


294  GENTEEL     BEAUX, 

the  community,  and  that  wickedness  was  evidence  of  the 
need  of  revival.  So  he  preached  in  a  constantly  recurring 
circle,  every  circuit  round  which  intensified  his  description 
of  the  depravity  of  Cedarville. 

"  T  am  shocked  to  learn  that  the  village  is  so  dissolute," 
said  Norton,  as  they  drove  away  from  the  church. 

Mr.  Lee  smiled  sardonically.  The  ladies  took  no  notice 
of  the  remark. 

"  I  do  not  understand  this  revival  business !"  broke  out, 
Norton,  again. 

"  Revive  Thy  work,"  is  a  Bible  prayer,  said  Mi's.  Lee, 
timidly. 

"  Yes,  yes  !  But  I  mean  this  system  of  successive  and 
violent  religious  paroxysms." 

"  The  fact  of  your  not  understanding  them  will  never  affect 
the  other  tact  of  their  actual  occurrence,"  answered  Mr. 
Lee,  thoughtfully. 

Norton  was  silent  for  a  time,  but  returned  again  to  the 
attack.  "  If  these  seasons  of  religious  excitements  must 
occur,  then  there  must  be  also  intervals  of  repose.  Why 
then  do  those  who  believe  in  this  system,  during  these  neces- 
sary intervals,  talk  as  if  every  thing  were  going  wrong,  as 
Mr.  Strykerdid  this  morning?  They  wish  what  they  can  not 
possibly  have,  what  is  absurd  in  the  mere  statement  of  it, 
they  wish  special  seasons  of  excitement,  and  they  wish  these 
special  seasons  all  the  time.  The  moment  one  is  passed  and 
the  lull  comes  after  the  storm,  they  yield  to  discouragement 
and  speak  language  that  borders  on  despair." 

Norton  paused.  No  one  seemed  disposed  to  answer  him  ; 
but  he  had  talked  himself  into  a  talking  mood  and  went  on. 

"Thev    should    be    contented  with   one  of   two   things. 


AND     VILLAGE     BELLES.  295 

Either  with  a  quiet,  rational,  equable  state  of  religious  ani- 
mation, from  year  to  year,  in  which,  if  the  waves  are  never 
tossed  by  a  tempest,  neither  do  they  subside  into  a  perfect 
calm  :  or  else,  if  they  will  have  intense  excitements,  they 
should  not  despair  when  the  fit  passes  away,  as  it  must,  and 
is  succeeded  by  apathy  and  listlessness.  Let  them  wait  in 
hope,  till  the  gale  rises  again.  Where  hurricanes  prevail, 
they  have  no  frequent  and  gentle  rains :  and  where  the 
showers  fall  often  and  quietly,  they  seldom  have  tempestu- 
ous storms." 

"  Brother  Norton,  how  interesting  the  study  of  physical 
geography  is,"  remarked  Helen,  by  way  of  diversion. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Norton,  somewhat  sullenly :  crest-fallen 
that  he  could  not  get  up  an  argument. 

"  That  matter  of  the  falling  of  rains ;"  Helen  continued,  "  a 
map  showing  the  distribution  of  rain  over  the  surface  of  the 
earth  gave  me  quite  another  idea  of  the  science  of  geography, 
than  the  mere  bounding  of  states  and  naming  over  capital 
towns !" 

Her  purpose  was  effected  now.  Norton  followed  her  lead 
and  talked  of  Ritter,  Steffens,  Humboklt  and  others,  till  they 
reached  the  house. 

Before  the  carriage,  from  which  they  alighted,  had  driven 
away,  a  one-horse  vehicle  was  seen  approaching  by  the  main 
avenue.  It  was  a  light,  jaunty,  city-made  wagon,  without  a 
top,  and  having  but  one  occupant,  a  young  man  with  a  for- 
midable mustache. 

"  It  is  some  visitor,  for  there  is  a  large  trunk  on  the  rack," 
said  Norton. 

"  No  visitor  would  come  here  Sunday  /"  said  Helen,  em- 
phatically. 


296  GENTEEL     BEAUX, 

But  he  was  bowing  now,  waving  his  hat  in  the  air  with 
extraordinary  gyrations,  and  all  recognized  at  once,  Albert 
Seymour,  Esq. 

The  welcome  had  as  little  cordiality  in  it  as  the  genuine 
Traro  hospitality  and  sincere  regard  for  Mrs.  Seymour  would 
allow.  More  warmth  of  feeling  was  expressed  for  the  poor 
over-driven  horse,  who  stood  panting  and  foam-covered  and 
would  have  been  foundered  but  for  the  instant  and  skillful 
care  of  Caesar. 

"  You  have  been  taking  a  drive,  I  perceive,"  remarked  Mr. 
Seymour,  glancing  round  the  group,  after  the  first  salutations 
were  over. 

"  We  have  just  returned  from  church,"  remarked  Mr.  Lee, 
gravely. 

"  Ah  !"  exclaimed  the  elegant  Seymour,  twisting  his  mus- 
tache into  its  prettiest  curl,  "  how  American  that  sounds ! 
We  European  travellers  quite  forget  the  association  of  ideas, 
when  you  speak  in  the  same  breath  of  church  and  Sunday !" 
This  speech  sent  Nellie  into  the  house,  lest  the  amusement 
or  disgust  she  felt  (one  or  other  of  them),  might  be  depicted 
on  her  face. 

"  I  have  spent  some  years  in  Europe,"  remarked  Norton, 
carelessly,  addressing  his  mother  "  and  have  forgotten  some 
associations  with  the  Sabbath,  when  there,  but  never,  skeptic 
that  I  am,  forgot  that  I  had  a  dear  mother,  nor,  I  trust,  what 
was  due  to  her  sentiments  !" 

How  becoming  that  sudden  lighting  up  of  the  quiet  face 
was  !     Unfortunately  so,  for  it  proved  the  occasion  of  a  pro- 
voking compliment,  by  which  Mr.  Seymour  sought  to  extri- 
cate himself  from  the  implied  censure  of  Mr.  Norton  Lee. 
"  So  youthful  and  blooming  a  mother,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Sey- 


AND     VILLAGE     BELLES.  297 

mour,  with  a  ^ourish  of  his  tiny  glove,  and  a  bow  to  the 
lady,  "  never  could  be  forgotten." 

Mrs.  Lee's  countenance  expressed  amazement.  Norton's 
said  plainly,  "  what  impertinence  !"  and  Mr.  Lee  carried  his 
away  from  examination  by  an  immediate  retreat  into  the 
house.  Mr.  Seymour,  however,  had  no  idea  but  that  he  had 
said  a  very  handsome  thing  in  most  approved  style,  and,  in 
full  feather,  followed  his  trunk  to  his  room  to  make  his  toilet 
for  dinner. 

An  elaborate  toilet  it  was,  and  rather  out  of  place  at  the 
early  and  plain  dinner  which,  according  to  invariable  rule  at 
Truro,  was  arranged  with  a  view  of  attending  church. 

Mr.  Seymour  was  somewhat  chagrined  to  find  that  he  was 
likely  to  spend  an  afternoon  in  solitary  grandeur  with  him- 
self and  his  fine  clothes.     Mr.  Lee  and  Norton  disappeared, 
without  asking  his  attendance,  as  soon  as  the  dinner  was 
despatched.     Mrs.  Lee,  Helen,  and   Miss   Brown  went   to 
church.     He  had  already  discovered  that  his  Sunday  advent 
had  made  an  ill  impression  ;  though  he  was  not  quite  sure 
but  that  it  would  do  him  service,  by  establishing  his  reputa- 
tion as  a  dashing  young  man  of  fashion.     However,  to  make 
amends  for  the  error  and  escape  from  solitude,  he  would  ac- 
company the  ladies.     They  walked  to  the  afternoon  service. 
He  placed  himself  beside  Helen.     She  very  quietly  changed 
her  position,  took  Miss  Brown's  arm,  and  left  him  to  escort 
her  mother.     From  that  moment  she  never  thought  of  him 
again  any  more  than  if  he  had  not  been  of  the  party. 

But  however  oblivious  Helen  was  to  Albert  Seymour,  Esq. 

his  presence  in  the  church  caused  no  little  sensation  in  the 

Cedarville  congregation.     His  vanity  did  not  fail  to  observe 

how  many  pretty  pairs  of  eyes  looked  at  him,  and  how  many 

" 


298  GENTEEL     DEAUX, 

ribbous  fluttered  when  he  looked  at  them.  Dr.  Lowe's  pew- 
ful  of  daughters,  pretty  girls,  all  of  them,  were  especially 
struck  with  the  elegant  and  elaborate  Seymour.  And  he  re- 
turned the  compliment  by  judging  Miss  Araminta  Lowe  the 
prettiest  girl  in  the  church,  except  Helen  Lee.  It  was  not 
surprising  therefore  that,  when  Helen  stopped  to  speak  to 
Araminta,  who  accidentally  happened  to  be  delayed  at  the 
church  door,  Mr.  Seymour  should  by  a  whisper  ask  an  in- 
troduction, and,  as  Helen  herself  immediately  disappeared — 
accompany  Miss  Araminta  on  her  way  home,  and  leave  her 
there  with  an  intimation  of  a  speedy  call  to  improve  ac- 
quaintance. 

But  for  Miss  Araminta  Lowe,  time  would  have  hung 
heavily  on  Mr.  Seymour's  hands.  Life  at  Truro  was  dull. 
Norton  left  in  a  day  or  two.  Rupert  had  gone  south,  with 
the  Gaylords.  Mr.  Lee  was  polite  enough,  and  conversable 
at  meal  times  and  sometimes  for  an  hour  in  the  evening : 
but  that  was  all.  Mrs.  Lee  seldom  uttered  a  word  to  any 
one.  Miss  Brown  ignored  his  existence.  And  Nellie,  re- 
garding herself  as  a  child,  did  not,  or  would  not  understand 
his  desire  to  make  himself  agreeable  to  her.  If  he  spoke  to 
her,  she  never  laid  aside  tho  book  she  chanced  to  be  read- 
ing :  and  if  he  persevered  in  talking,  she  either  answered  in 
monosyllables,  or  would  run  out  of  the  room.  She  would 
not  ride  with  him,  nor  drive  with  him.  Never  once  did  she, 
or  any  member  of  the  family  remark  upon  his  dress,  or 
seem  to  know  that  his  wardrobe  was  extraordinary,  though 
a  second  large  trunk  had  arrived  by  stage,  the  day  after  his 
own  advent,  and  he  had  decorated  his  person  in  every  sort 
of  fanciful  attire,  from  merino  embroidered  morning-gowns 
to  the  fullest  broad-cloth  dinner  suit,  that  Parisian  fashions 


AND     VILLAGE     BELLES.  299 

could  afford.  What  Perry  could  have  meant  by  saying  that 
Langdon  Muiray  was  'a  beau  of  Nellie's,'  he  did  not  know; 
Nellie  was  incapable  of  having  a  beau.  She  was  as  unim- 
pressible  as  an  infant. 

So  Mr.  Seymour  directed  his  attentions  to  Miss  Araminta. 
Every  day  the  hackney  horse  and  wagon,  he  had  brought 
from  New  York,  was  in  requisition,  and  Miss  Araminta  took 
every  possible  drive  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cedarville,  with- 
out ever  seeing  distinctly  any  one  object  but  the  exquisite 
captivating,  rich  Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  who  sat  beside  her. 
All  this  was  very  pleasing  to  Albert's  vanity,  and  answered 
his  purpose  in  the  way  of  killing  time.  But  it  was  coming 
to  be  a  serious  matter  for  Miss  Araminta. 

Dr.  Lowe  was  a  prudent  man.  Mr.  Lee,  where  his  ideas 
of  gentlemanly  propriety  were  concerned,  was  a  stern  man. 
Dr.  Lowe  paid  a  stealthy  visit  to  Mr.  Lee's  library  and  re- 
ceived plain  answers  to  sundry  questions  about  Albert  Sey- 
mour, Esq.  Mr.  Lee  honored  Albert  himself  with  a  particu- 
lar interview  in  the  same  library.  The  idea  that  he  might 
possibly  be  captivated  by  the  blooming  Araminta  afforded 
the  self-esteemed  Adonis  prodigious  amusement,  and  he 
protested  his  innocence  of  any  intentions  upon  her  hand  or 
heart :  whereupon  Mr.  Lee,  on  the  penalty  of  forfeiting  his 
favor  and  friendship,  prohibited  another  visit  to  the  lovely 
Lowe. 

Deprived  now  of  every  other  resource,  save  that  of  dress- 
ing himself  and  admiring  himself,  and  being  withal  a  little 
shame-faced  before  Mr.  Lee,  Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  concluded 
to  decamp  from  Truro,  to  return  again  when  the  "youngish" 
daughter  should  be  old  and  sensible  enough  to  admire  her 
peerless  admirer. 


300  GENTEEL     BEAUX, 

Things  at  Truro  fell  into  their  old  train.  The  lonely  feel- 
ing that  ensued  on  the  first  departure  of  the  summer  guests 
soon  passed  away  and  a  cheerful  tranquillity  would  have  per- 
vaded the  household,  but  for  the  unusual  dispiritedness  of 
Mr.  Lee.  He  was  restless  ;  his  ordinary  cares  lost  their  rel- 
ish ;  he  spent  less  time  in  his  family  and  more  in  his  li- 
brary, but  his  studies  made  him  gloomy  and  morose. 
Helen  once  or  twice  detected  a  volume  in  his  hands  that  she 
did  not  like  the  looks  of.  She  feared  that  he  was  seeking 
relief  for  a  wounded  conscience  in  the  opiates  of  disbelief. 
But  with  whatever  other  result  this  effort  was  attended,  it 
did  not  produce  peace  of  mind.  At  last  he  took  to  politics. 
For  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  became  a  public  speaker  and 
a  constant  attendant  on  all  political  gatherings.  He  was 
much  away  from  home  now ;  he  was  scarcely  a  week  at 
Truro  at  a  time.  Sorry  as  they  were  to  lose  his  society, 
they  were  glad  that  the  active  engagements  which  now  em- 
ployed him  restored  him  to  a  happier  frame  of  mind. 

As  for  Helen,  she  was  very  busy.  Besides  her  own 
studies  and  little  Hetty's  music-lessons,  she  had  the  whole 
charge  of  Robert.  Most  faithfully,  if  unconsciously,  she  was 
molding  his  character  :  but  it  was  not  without  trouble  and 
vexation.  He  was  a  constant  tax  upon  her  patience  ;  so 
many  were  the  faults  to  correct  and  so  many  the  virtues  to 
coax  into  existence  or  activity ;  besides  the  revising  of  letters 
to  his  parents,  the  telling  of  stories  on  winter  evenings,  the 
rendering  of  assistance  in  difficult  lessons,  or,  just  as  toilsome 
when  not  in  the  humor,  in  devising  and  carrying  out 
schemes  of  amusement.  But  Robert  did  love  Aunt  Nellie, 
was  as  good  as  he  could  be,  and  in  his  quiet  way,  for  he  was 
never  a  noisy  boy,  added  much  to  the  good  cheer  of  th<» 


AND     VILLAGE     BELLES.  301 

household.  As  for  little  Hetty,  she  was  no  trouble  at  all, 
only  a  pleasure.  There  was  no  great  responsibility  in  her 
case,  for  she  had  a  mother  :  and  she  was  at  Truro  only  dur- 
ing school  hours,  except  in  stormy  weather,  when  she  would 
stay  sometimes  for  days  together.  Helen  was  glad  of  these 
visits,  not  only  because  she  loved  Hetty,  but  because  Robert, 
at  such  times,  made  fewer  demands  upon  her  time  and  ex- 
ertions. Hetty  resembled  her  mother  in  appearance,  save 
a  dash  of  her  father's  sobriety. 


XXXI. 

giamonfc  trn*  Jiamonfc. 


"When  the  two  goats  met  on  the  bridge  which  was  too  narrow  to  allow  them 
either  to  pass  each  other  or  to  return,  the  goat  which  lay  down  that  the  other 
might  walk  over  him  was  a  finer  gentleman  than  Lord  Chesterfield." 

RICIIABD  CECIL. 


1/TR.  AMOS  GRAVES  was  at  last  advanced  to  a  partner- 
-^-*-  ship  in  the  one  store  of  Cedarville.  He  was  no  longer 
'•young'  Mr.  Graves;  his  youth,  which  many  years  of  clerk- 
ship had  prolonged,  was  swallowed  up  instantaneously  in 
the  vortex  of  honor,  when  the  new  and  brilliant  sign-board, 
painted  in  blue  letters  on  a  white  ground  with  a  green  bor- 
der, emblazoned  the  firm  of  SLATER  &  GRAVES.  Indeed, 
after  this  event,  some  even  ventured  to  speak  of  him  as  old 
Graves. 

The  firm  of  Slater  <fe  Graves  did  a  flourishing  business. 
The  infusion  into  the  concern  of  Mr.  Graves'  activity  and 
shrewdness,  aided  by  the  establishment  of  Mr.  Hughes'  fac- 
tories, begun  a  new  era  in  the  mercantile  history  of  Cedar- 
ville, the  first  evidence  of  which  was  the  erection  of  a  branch 
store  down  by  the  grist-mill  and  factories,  and  the  employ- 
ment of  two  clerks  in  the  old  store,  where  one  had  heretofore 
answered  all  requirements. 

Mr.  Graves  still  however  occupied  the  loft  over  the  store, 
which  had  always  been  the  clerk's  bed-chamber,  and  left  the 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  308 

two  clerks  to  shift  for  themselves  in  the  store  below,  and  find 
a  place  at  night,  on  the  floor,  among  the  miscellaneous 
goods,  for  the  cotton-mattress,  which  in  the  day-time  was 
mysteriously  crowded  under  the  counter.  But  often,  when 
Mr.  Graves  went  to  bed  at  night,  he  meditated  the  feasibil- 
ity of  some  arrangement,  better  for  himself  and  the  clerks 
too.  As  he  extinguished  his  candle  and  lay  watching  the 
moonlight,  if  there  were  any,  as  it  vainly  sought  a  cheerful 
corner  under  the  rafters,  among  the  shingles,  or  on  the  floor, 
of  the  unceiled,  unpainted  and  uncarpeted  dormitory,  Mr. 
Graves  would  ask  himself  whether  it  were  not  about  time  for 
him  to  get  married. 

Why  was  it,  that  as  often  as  Mr.  Graves  asked  this  ques- 
tion of  himself,  the  pretty,  bright  face  of  Margaret  Ball 
came  up  before  him  as  plain  as  a  vision  ?  And  why  was  it, 
that  Mr.  Graves  had  no  objection  to  gaze  at  the  vision,  but 
tried  to  prolong  its  continuance  before  his  mind's  eye  ?  It 
could  not  be  that  he  was  in  love  with  Margaret  Ball !  "  Oh, 
no !"  Mr.  Graves  would  say  to  himself  and  be  shocked  at 
the  bare  thought.  "  He  could  never  love  any  but  a  decided- 
ly pious  woman  ;  and  Margaret  Ball  was  not  so  very  pious. 
How  could  she  be  with  such  a  father  ?"  and  Mr.  Graves 
would  find  himself  making  excuses  for  Margaret's  lack  of 
piety.  Then  he  would  wonder  with  himself  if  she  might  not 
become  a  more  devoted  Christian  if  placed  under  more  auspi- 
cious influences,  under  his  own  for  instance  ! — ''  Not  that 
he  meant  to  make  the  experiment :  oh,  no !  It  would  be  too 
great  a  risk.  He  had  no  idea  of  marrying  Margaret  Ball ; 
it  would  be  sinful  in  him  if  he  had :"  and,  with  a  little  sigh, 
Mr.  Graves  would  turn  over  in  bed  and  begin  systematically 
to  turn  over  in  his  mind  who  there  was  that  he  could  marry 


304  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

There  was  Kitty  White  ;  but  she  was  too  much  of  a  gossip  : 
her  piety  too  was — well,  it  was  questionable,  even  more  than 
Margaret  Ball's.  There  were  the  Lowe  girls ;  only  one  of 
them  professed  religion  and  she  was  only  a  professor — never 
gave  any  other  evidence  of  interest  in  good  things.  There 
was  Sarah  Hayes,  and  he  dwelt  a  good  while  on  Sarah — an 
excellent,  sedate,  sensible  girl  Sarah  was : — but  then  she 
was  a  little  oldish,  and  very  demure,  and — yes,  a  good  girl 
— but  not  such  a  ringing  tone  to  her  piety  as  filled  Mr. 
Graves'  spiritual  ear.  But  there  was  Cynthia  Stryker ! 
Against  her  piety,  nothing  could  be  said ;  it  was  beyond 
doubt :  she  was  an  active,  devoted  Christian,  just  of  Mr. 
Graves'  kind.  She  was  not  handsome,  to  be  sure ;  but 
Christians  should  not  many  for  beauty :  and,  as  an  offset  to 
beauty,  she  was  young  and  educated  and  calculated  for  a 
business-man's  wife.  She  was  the  sister  of  the  minister,  too, 
that  was  something.  Why  should  he  not  have  Cynthia 
Stryker  ?  Mr.  Graves  could  see  no  possible  objections  :  and 
night  after  night  he  composed  himself  to  sleep  with  the  de- 
termination to  make  Cynthia  Stryker  his  wife  !  But  some- 
how, as  his  mind  floated  away  into  the  mystic  regions  of 
sleep,  it  was  not  Cynthia  Stryker's  homely  visage,  but  Mar- 
garet Ball's  pretty  face  that  smiled  upon  him  and  faded  with 
the  last  indistinct  vision  of  the  night. 

Mr.  Graves  was  impatient  for  Cynthia's  return  to  Cedar- 
ville,  and  often  called  at  the  parsonage  to  inquire  after  her 
and  be  sure  of  the  time  when  she  might  be  expected.  In 
the  mean  while  he  was  often  induced  to  step  in  at  Mr.  Ball's : 
he  might  do  some  good,  he  would  say  to  himself,  might 
speak  a  word  in  season,  perhaps — a  word  of  warning  to  Mr. 
Ball,  if  he  should  happen  to  meet  him,  which  he  never  did. 


DIAMOND     TKUE     DIAMOND.  305 

or  a  word  of  comfort  to  Mrs.  Ball,  or  a  word  of  advice  to 
Margaret.  When  Mrs.  Stryker  dilated,  as  she  most  always 
chanced  to  in  Mr.  Graves'  presence,  on  the  many  impropri- 
eties and  shortcomings  of  Margaret,  especially  that  one  impru- 
dent act  of  walking  in  the  street  till  near  midnight  with  a 
young  man,  neither  brother  nor  cousin,  Mr.  Graves  would 
be  very  sorry  for  poor  Margaret,  very,  VERY  sorry  (Mrs. 
Stryker  would  rather  have  had  him  more  severe  against  her 
fault,  and  less  sorrowful  about  it).  Once,  when  Mr.  Graves 
met  at  Mr.  Ball's  a  good-looking  young  man,  whom  he 
knew  to  be  a  respectable  harnessmaker  in  Montgomery,  be- 
ginning business  for  himself,  he  went  away  in  a  dejected 
frame  of  mind,  and  under  the  impression  that  he  must  be 
sick,  helped  himself  to  a  dose  of  medicine  from  a  shelf  in  the 
store  before  retiring  to  his  loft,  and  dreamed  all  night  long  of 
vain  attempts  to  release  Margaret  Ball  from  a  set  of  harness, 
which  a  handsome  young  man  fastened  on  her. 

The  first  night  after  Cynthia's  arrival  at  Cedarville,  Mr. 
Graves  paid  his  respects  at  the  parsonage.  During  the 
course  of  the  clay  he  had  issued  sundry  contradictory  orders 
and  betrayed  various  symptoms  of  nervousness ;  all  of  which 
rendered  the  clerks  wide  awake  to  the  fact,  that  he  was 
unusually  lung  at  his  toilet,  in  the  loft,  after  supper,  and 
that,  when  he  passed  through  the  store,  his  countenance  ex- 
pressed anxiety,  and  his  step  indicated  business  on  hand,  and 
that  (for  they  watched  him,  the  scamps  !)  he  went  up  to  the 
Parsonage. 

"  Tell  you  what,  Jim,  old  Graves'  gone  to  make  love  to 
Ointhy  Stryker.  Be  dang,  if  I  don't  cut  him  out !" 

"  Better  get  your  name  on  that  ere  sign,  afore  you  try," 
•was  the  reply  of  the  brother  clerk. 


306  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

"  Looks  afore  money  with  most  gals,  Jim.  I  Vt  had  expe- 
rience," and  Bill  Jenkins,  William  Agustus  Jenkins,  he  called 
himself,  put  on  an  air  of  irresistibleness  to  the  fair  sex  in 
general. 

"  Guess  ye  hain't  tried  any  of  them  Strykers,  have  you  ?" 

"  No :  but  I  will ;  see  if  I  don't !" 

"  You  '11  have  your  pains  for  your  trouble,  unless  you  show 
your  money  first,  They  're  sharp." 

"  What  kind  of  a  girl  is  Cinthy  Stryker  ?"  Mr.  Jenkins 
was  a  new  comer  to  the  village. 

"  Ugly  as  sin  !" 

"  Humph !  That 's  not  encouraging.  Don't  know  but 
I'll  let  old  Graves  take  her.  I  '11  have  one  look  at  her  first 
though,  afore  I  decide." 

Mr.  Graves  was  startled  by  meeting  a  handsome  stranger 
at  the  parsonage  gate  and  disagreeably  affected  by  a  glimpse 
of  Miss  Cynthia,  at  the  parlor  window,  watching  the  egress 
of  the  stranger.  Mr.  Graves  surmised  that  the  stranger  was 
the  gentleman  who  occupied  the  seat  next  Miss  Cynthia  in 
the  stage-coach,  when  it  stopped  at  the  store  to  leave  the 
mails,  but  Mr.  Graves  had  been  too  intently  occupied  at  that 
moment  in  bowing  at  the  face  in  blue  ribbons,  to  make  close 
observations  on  her  gentlemanly  escort. 

Miss  Cynthia  received  Mr.  Graves  kindly,  and  proved  her- 
self, as  usual,  sprightly,  agreeable  and  pious  in  conversation. 
Mr.  Graves  felt  his  heart  warming  under  her  smiles  and  liked 
to  have  been  betrayed  into  saying  some  tender  things.  But 
he  wished  she  would  not  quote  Mr.  Seymour,  what  he 
thought,  said,  and  did,  quite  so  much ;  and  wondered  who 
Mr.  Seymour  was. 

The  next  evening  Mr.    Graves  called   at  the  parsonage 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  307 

again.  This  time  he  met  the  handsome  stranger  in  the  par- 
lor. He  was  introduced.  When  he  heard  the  name — "  Mr. 
Seymour" — he  was  filled  with  alarm.  He  was  too  embar- 
rassed to  take  part  in  the  conversation,  though  it  was  of  a 
strictly  religious  nature.  Fortunately  Miss  Cynthia  was  too 
deeply  interested  in  the  polished  Mr.  Seymour,  to  observe  the 
awkwardness  of  the  country  storekeeper.  This  circumstance 
increased  Mr.  Graves'  misery  and  confirmed  his  worst  fears. 
Mr.  Seymour  left  soon  after  Mr.  Graves'  arrival.  But  Mr. 
Graves'  could  not  recover  his  spirits,  and  he  took  an  early 
leave.  What  in  the  world  put  it  into  his  head,  on  his  way 
home,  to  step  in  "just  for  a  moment,"  at  Margaret  Ball's ! 

Margaret  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  "  because,"  as  she  told 
Kitty  White,  the  next  day,  "  mother  was  sick  and  low-spir- 
ited, and  she  knew  that  Mr.  Graves'  call  would  rouse  her  up ; 
he  'd  read  a  chapter  and  make  a  prayer  and  talk  to  her  as 
good  as  a  sermon." 

Mr.  Graves  fulfilled  Margaret's  expectations  and  she  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door,  thanked  him  for  the  call  and  asked 
him  to  come  again.  She  never  had  done  so  before.  Why 
did  Mr.  Graves  feel  so  happy  ?  Mr.  Graves  himself  thought 
that  he  was  experiencing  the  pleasure  of  doing  good.  " '  He 
that  watereth  shall  be  watered  also  himself,' "  he  said  to 
himself.  "  I  have  been  trying  to  comfort  poor  Mrs.  Ball, 
and  joy  has  come  into  my  own  heart ;  at  the  very  time,  too, 
when  this  bitter  disappointment  has  blighted  my  fondest 
hopes  of  earthly  happiness."  Is  Mr.  Graves  the  only  one 
who  has  ascribed  carnal  joys  to  spiritual  sources  ?  Certain 
it  is,  he  never  once  thought  that  night,  after  the  light  was 
out  and  the  moon  was  glistering  on  the  rafters,  of  CyntL  a 


SOS  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

Stryker  and  Mr.  Seymour ;  but  he  did  think  all  the  time  of 
Margaret  Ball  and  her  last  words. 

Could  Mr.  Graves  help  going  again  to  Margaret  Ball's  the 
next  evening,  when  she  had  asked  him  so  sweetly  and  earn- 
estly to  come  again,  and  her  mother  needed  his  word  of  con- 
solation so  much?  He  did  go;  and  he  went  earlier  and 
staid  later  than  on  the  preceding  evening.  Margaret,  too, 
was  quite  sociable.  She  never  had  talked  to  him  so  freely. 
To  be  sure,  she  sewed  all  the  time,  and  scarcely  looked  up 
from  her  work,  even  when  she  was  talking  ;  but  she  gave  a 
good  excuse  for  her  unseasonable  industry. 

"I  am  making  a  dress  for  a  poor  child,  Mr.  Graves. 
There's  a  family  down  by  the  factories  that's  suffering.  The 
father's  been  sick,  and  the  mother's  sold  nearly  every  thing 
they  had,  till  she  has  nothing  to  sell,  and  no  one  to  sell  it  to 
if  she  had.  I  told  Mrs.  Hughes  about  them,  and  she  gave 
me  some  things  and  the  stuff  to  make  this  dress.  I  want  to 
finish  it  to  night  and  carry  it  down  to-morrow,  that  the  little 
girl  may  come  to  Sunday-school  next  Sunday." 

"Do  you  mean  to  cany  it  yourself?"  Mr.  Graves  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  Walk  all  the  way  down  there  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  don't  mind  the  walk  if  it  were  n't  for  the  time  it 
takes." 

"  Would  you  mind  riding  in  the  store-wagon,  on  the  seat 
in  front  of  the  barrels  and  things,  when  it  goes  down  to-mor- 
row afternoon  to  the  factories?  If  you  wouldn't,  I'll  come 
for  you,  and  drive  it  myself." 

"  Oh  !  thank  you  Mr.  Graves.  If  it  would  n't  be  a  trouble 
to  you,  I  'd  like  it  first  rate.  I  'd  as  lief  go  that  way  as  in  a 
carriage. 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  309 

Mr.  Graves  went  to  bed  happy  again,  that  night,  quite  ob- 
livious to  Cynthia  Stryker  and  Mr.  Seymour,  and  very  much 
occupied  in  thought  with  Margaret  Ball's  benevolence.  He 
had  no  idea  that  she  was  such  a  good  girl.  It  was  so  good 
of  her,  very  good,  to  be  making  that  dress  and  taking  those 
long  walks  to  the  factor}-  people,  when  she  had  all  the  work 
to  do  at  home,  and  so  much  heart-trouble  about  her  father 
besides.  Whatever  goodness  there  was  in  all  this,  Mr. 
Graves  was  making  the  most  of  it. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Graves'  thoughts  were  strangely  precipi- 
tated into  the  afternoon ;  and  when  at  last  the  afternoon 
came,  and  the  time  for  the  one-horse  spring-wagon  to  take 
its  daily  trip  down  to  the  factories,  Bill  Jenkins  was  disap- 
pointed to  find  his  place  as  driver  forestalled,  and  more  sur- 
prised to  observe  that  Mr.  Graves  wore  his  best  coat,  at  the 
risk  of  ruining  it  against  the  flour  barrels  and  greasy  hams. 

Margaret  looked  blooming  and  happy  as  she  sprang  up  to 
the  leather-covered  seat,  alongside  of  Mr.  Graves.  It  was 
such  a  novelty.  How  father  would  laugh  if  he  saw  her.  But 
her  father  was  not  in  the  smithy  and  Margaret  looked  sad 
and  did  not  turn  her  head  as  they  passed  the  tavern,  to  see 
if  he  were  there. 

"  Do  you  go  down  often  to  the  factories  I"  Mr.  Graves  in- 
quired. 

"  Pretty  often.  I  'd  go  oftener  if  I  'd  company.  It 's  lone- 
some to  go  alone." 

"  What  do  you  go  for,  then  ?" 

"Well,  Hike  the  walk." 

"  Is  that  the  only  reason  ?" 

«  No." 

Mr.  Graves  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  but  with  more  deli- 


310  DIAMOND     TRUK     DIAMOND. 

cacy  than  he  usually  evinced,  forbore  pressing  his  question. 
Margaret  with  some  hesitation  satisfied  his  curiosity. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Mr.  Graves,  for  fear  you  might 
think  there's  something  in  these  visits  that  is  n't.  I  some- 
times get  discouraged  because  I  can't  do  no  good  in  the 
world  like  other  Christians.  One  day  the  notion  took  me  that 
I  might  find  some  one  to  do  good  to,  down  there.  So  I 
went  down,  and  I  did.  To  be  sure  I  can't  do  much,  but 
then  it's  something.  I  can  put  things  to  rights  when  the 
woman's  sick,  or  fix  a  poor  sick  body  in  bed,  or  help  nurse 
the  children  when  they're  fretsome,  or  find  out  whether  they 
want  food  or  clothes  and  go  and  tell  the  Lees  or  the  Hughes 
— they  always  give  me  what  I  ask  for." 

"  Why  Margaret !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Graves,  with  undis- 
guised surprise  and  pleasure.  "The  Lord  will  surely  bless 
you  for  all  this.  You  need  n't  say  you  ain't  doing  any  good 
in  the  world  ;  you  are.  You  shame  me  out  and  out.  Here 
L,  an  elder  of  the  church,  have  been  going  down  to  those 
factories  day  after  day  for  more  than  a  year  and  I  never 
even  so  much  as  thought  of  asking  if  any  of  those  poor  folks 
needed  assistance.  To  be  sure  I  've  lectured  some  of  'em  for 
not  coming  to  church,  nor  sending  their  children  to  Sunday- 
school  and  once  in  a  while  would  give  a  little  something 
when  they  asked  for  it ;  but — but — that 's  all !"  and  Mr. 
Graves  whipped  up  the  horse,  like  a  man  who  had  got  new 
light  and  was  in  a  huny  to  follow  it.  Margaret  had  to 
grasp  the  end  of  the  seat,  the  wagon  jolted  so ;  but  Mr. 
Graves,  observing  that,  reined  in  the  horse  and  they  went 
along  quietly  as  before. 

"  You  say  there 's  a  good  deal  of  suffering  down  there," 
Mr.  Graves  remarked. 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  311 

"  No ;  not  actual  suffering.  But  I  always  find  something 
to  do  for  somebody  when  I  go  down.  But  what  they  often 
need  most  is  what  I  can  't  give  them." 

"  What 's  that  ?" 

"  Talking  to." 

"  Why,  you  can  talk,  can  't  you  ?" 

"  Not  the  right  way.  They  need  instruction  about  their 
souls — spiritual  advice,  and  I  ain't  good  enough  for  that.  I 
never  could  talk  religion.  I  thought  Cinthy  Stryker  'd  go 
with  me,  when  she  came  home.  She  can  talk  like  a  book 
— just  like  preaching  sermons." 

"  Well,  won't  she  ?" 

"  I  asked  her  yesterday.  She  did  n't  give  me  much  en- 
couragement. She  said  it  was  a  long  walk,  and  sometimes 
dusty  and  sometimes  wet ;  but  she  'd  think  about  it ;  per- 
haps she  'd  go  with  me  next  week,  but  she  could  n't  go  to- 
day. Kitty  White  says — but  then  I  do  n't  put  no  store  on 
what  Kitty  White  says,  she  talks  so  at  random — but  she 
says  that  Cinthy 's  too  proud  to  go  through  the  street  in  a 
sun-bonnet  and  common  clothes,  and  her  fine  ones  are  too 
fine  to  draggle  through  the  dusty  roads  and  besides,  she 
wants  to  show  them  in  church  first." 

Mr.  Graves  was  immersed  in  a  brown  study.  Nothing 
was  said  for  a  minute  or  two.  Margaret  looked  troubled. 

"  Perhaps,  Mr.  Graves,"  she  said  timidly,  "  I  ought  n't  to 
have  told  what  Kitty  said  about  Cinthy.  Somehow  I  never 
took  to  Cinthy  and  am  too  ready  to  hear  what  Kitty  says 
against  her,  who  don't  like  her  a  bit.  I  want  to  be  better 
than  I  am  :  won't  you  please  tell  me  my  faults,  Mr.  Graves, 
when  you  see  them  ?" 

"  I   never   see — "  Mr.  Graves   was   about    to   pronounce 


812  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

Margaret  faultless,  but  checked  himself  in  time  to  save  future 
reproaches  of  conscience.  Had  he  not  often  joined  in  her 
condemnation  for  many  failings  and  shortcomings  as  a 
Christian  ?  What  had  so  suddenly  blinded  him  ? 

"What  was  you  going  to  say,  Mr.  Graves'?"  Margaret 
asked,  with  anxiety. 

"  If  you  wish  to  be  better,  Margaret,  you  must  look  to 
Divine  help,  not  human.  'If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let 
him  ask  of  God,  that  giveth  to  all  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
not ;  and  it  shall  be  given  him.'" 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  But  here  we  are  at  the  store.  I  can 
walk  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  will  be  back  by  the  time  you  're 
ready." 

"  Would  n't  you  like  me  to  go  with  you  and  say  a  word 
or  two,  to  these  poor  folks  ?" 

"  Oh  !  yes,  sir.     If  you  can." 

"  Wait  a  minute." 

Mr.  Graves  entered  the  store  and  gave  his  orders  to  the 
clerk.  Then  he  busied  himself  putting  up  various  brown 
paper  parcels,  which  he  stowed  away  in  a  large  basket ;  the 
basket  at  last  was  swung  on  his  arm  and  he  announced  him- 
self ready.  Margaret  had  watched  his  operations,  while  she 
sat  on  the  willow-bottomed  chair  in  the  door-way,  with  curi- 
osity. They  went  out  together  and  came  back  with  an 
empty  basket  and  full  hearts.  Mr.  Graves  visited  that  day 
more  than  one  family  of  Margaret's  acquaintance  and  his 
word  of  counsel  and  prayer  did  more  good,  perhaps,  than  all 
the  alarming  tracts  he  had  zealously  distributed  among  the 
more  intelligent  families  of  the  village. 

That  very  night  Mr.  Graves  called  at  Mr.  Ball's  again. 
Margaret  was  sewing  and  singing,  as  lively  as  a  cricket. 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  813 

Mr.  Graves  walked  iu  without  knocking,  for  lie  began  to  feel 
at  home.  Mrs.  Ball  had  gone  to  bed.  She  was  not  well. 
She  would  be  sorry,  and  she  would  n't  have  gone  to  bed 
Margaret  guessed,  if  she  was  sick,  had  she  thought  Mr, 
Graves  would  be  so  good  as  to  come  again.  It  was  hardly 
ever  any  one  came  to  see  them  of  an  evening,  except  once  in 
a  while  Kitty  White,  or  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes. 

Mr.  Graves  was  not  sorry  that  Mrs.  Ball  had  retired.  He 
had  begun  to  understand  some  things  that  had  been  knock- 
ing about  in  his  heart  for  months  past,  things  on  which  the 
image  of  Margaret  Ball  was  so  deeply  impressed,  that  they 
might  be  known  to  be  hers,  as  plainly  as  Caesar's  superscrip- 
tion marked  the  denarii  for  his.  Mr.  Graves  was  a  just  man. 
He  believed  in  rendering  to  Caesar  the  things  that  are 
Caesar's ;  and  as  soon  as  he  found  out  that  he  had  some- 
thing that  belonged  to  Margaret,  he  resolved  that  she  should 
have  her  own,  even  if  it  were  his  heart.  People  might  talk 
as  they  chose.  If  Margaret  was  n't  up  to  the  technical  idea 
of  "  a  devoted,  active  Christian,"  Mr.  Graves  began  to  sus- 
pect that  she  was  better  than  he  ! 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  alone,  Margaret,"  Mr.  Graves  re- 
plied to  her  expressions  of  regret  at  Mrs.  Ball's  absence. 

"  Are  you  ?"  was  Margaret's  surprised  rejoinder. 

"  Yes.  I  wish  to  see  you  to-night.  I  have  something  very 
particular  to  say." 

"  Have  you  ?  What  is  it  ?"  Margaret  answered,  with  her 
usual  simplicity,  and  suspended  the  sewing  without  putting 
the  work  out  of  her  hand. 

Mr.  Graves  paused  a  moment  and  then  began. 

"  Margaret,  Scripture  says,  '  God  setteth  the  solitary  in 
families.' " 

14 


814  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

Mr.  Graves  was  so  much  in  the  habit  of  starting  his  re- 
marks with  some  text  of  Scripture  as  remote  from  the  sub- 
ject as  the  east  from  the  west,  that  Margaret  was  not  at  all 
startled  by  this  ominous  introduction. 

"Now,  Margaret,"  he  continued,  "I  have  been  thinking 
about  this  Scripture  lately  a  good  deal.  I  Ve  applied  it  to 
myself,  and  in  looking  about  to  see  whom  I  might  find  hap- 
piness with  in  this  life,  I — I  have  thought,  dear  Margaret — " 
His  voice  fell  into  that  tender  tone  it  sometimes  had  in 
prayer.  Margaret  was  all  in  a  tremor  in  an  instant.  What 
was  he  about  to  say  ?  In  her  agitated  attempt  to  extricate 
her  foot  from  the  work  which  had  fallen  from  her  lap,  she 
upset  the  little  three  legge  1  table ;  the  candle  went  over 
with  it,  and  was  extinguished.  This  gave  her  a  chance  to  re- 
cover herself.  She  jumped  up  and  began  to  laugh,  talk,  and 
light  the  candle,  all  at  the  same  time. 

"  It  happened  just  so  once,"  she  said,  "  when  Joseph 
Joyce  was  here.  You  know  Joseph,  don't  you,  Mr.  Graves  ? 
Did  n't  you  meet  him  here  one  time  ?" 

"  Mr.  Joyce,  the  harnessmaker,  from —  ?"  Mr.  Graves 
gasped. 

"  From  Montgomery.  Yes,"  said  Margaret,  blowing  away 
at  the  coal  she  held  with  the  tongs,  and  prolonging  the  op- 
eration more  than  her  practiced  skill  at  lighting  candles  ren- 
dered at  all  necessary.  "  Joseph  and  I  think  n  great  deal  of 
each  other.  We  Ve  been  acquainted  this  two  years  now. 
You  '11  like  him  when  you  know  him  better,  Mr.  Graves. 
At  least  I  hope  you  will  try  to,  for  my  sake.  Oh  dear  !  I 
must  go  to  mother's  room  and  get  a  match.  Excuse  me  a 
minute,  Mr.  Graves." 

Margaret's  minute  was*  considerately  a  very    long   one. 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  315 

When  she  came  back  Mr.  Graves  had  lighted  the  candle  and 
was  sitting  by  the  large  table  between  the  windows,  examin- 
ing her  books,  in  one  of  which  he  had  found  a  presentation 
plate  in  which  the  names  of  Margaret  Ball  and  Joseph  Joyce 
was  brought  into  close  and  loving  proximity,  in  the  center 
of  a  very  red  heart. 

"  The  matches  were  not  where  I  put  them,"  said  Marga- 
ret, by  way  of  excuse  for  her  long  absence.  She  was  still  a 
little  flurried. 

"  I  succeeded  in  lighting  the  candle,"  said  Mr.  Graves  very 
composedly,  "  and  now  it  is  time  for  me  to  go.  But  I  want 
first  to  ask  you  a  question,  Margaret,  if  you  won't  be  of- 
fended. You  know  I  am  a  good  deal  older  than  you." 
(Strange  that  he  had  not  thought  of  that  before  !) 

Margaret  was  sure,  from  his  manner,  that  the  question 
would  not  be  disagreeable ;  and  told  him  she  would  answer 
it  with  pleasure,  if  she  could. 

"  Are  you  and  Mr.  Joyce  engaged  ?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  frankly. 

"  Been  engaged  some  time  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  never  told  any  body  but  mother,  because  we 
couldn't  be  married  just  yet.  But  I  supposed  every  one 
knew  it,  as  he  comes  here,  off  and  on,  when  he  can." 

"  I  have  had  some  suspicions,"  Mr.  Graves  answered,  "  but 
I  did  n't  know  for  certain.  I  thought  .you  would  n't  mind 
telling  an  old  friend.  Good-night,  Margaret.  I  '11  come  and 
see  your  mother  again  soon." 

Margaret  waited  at  the  closed  door  till  the  gate  shut  and 
the  receding  steps  assured  her  that  Mr.  Graves  was  beyond 
hearing  of  the  sliding  bolt,  and  then  she  fastened  the  door, 


S16  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

went  back  to  her  seat  before  the  smoldering  coals  in  the  fire- 
place, and  gave  herself  up  to  musing. 

"  Wonder  what  he  did  mean !  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was 
nothing.  Never  thought  of  his  coming  to  see  me — supposed, 
.of  course,  it  was  mother.  Once  or  twice  fancied  that  he  was 
a  little  tender  and  civil-like,  but  was  u't  sure.  Well,  I  'm 
sorry  if  he  did  mean  any  thing.  He  must  think  I  led  him 
on,  taking  that  ride  with  him  and  all,  and  talking  to  him  so 
free.  I  'm  sorry  enough,  for  I  did  like  him,  he  's  so  good  to 
mother,  and  he  prays  so  beautifully.  He  is  a  Christian,  if 
he  is  so  frightensonie  sometimes.  Perhaps  he  never  meant 
any  thing  at  all.  Did  n't  act  like  it  at  last.  Yet  he  said  he 
had  something  particular  to  say.  Perhaps  it  was  to  ask  if 
Joseph  and  me  are  engaged,  for  he  did  ask  that.  But  he 
did  n't  begin  as  if  he  was  going  to  ask  that — he  never  does 
begin  like  other  folks,  though.  Almost  wish  I'd  let  him  go 
on,  only  that  would  have  been  bad,  too.  Well,  I  should  like 
to  know  for  sure." 

And  Margaret  thought  about  it,  and  smiled  over  it,  and 
cried  at  it,  till  there  was  a  staggering  step  on  the  porch  and 
a  fumbling  at  the  front  door.  She  let  her  father  in,  helped 
him  to  his  room,  forgetting  to  cry  about  him  as  she  usually 
did  at  nights,  because  she  was  so  busy  thinking  about  Mr. 
Graves  and  she  went  to  bed  thinking  the  matter  over  and 
over,  without  coming  to  any  better  conclusion.  Whether 
Mr.  Graves,  did  or  did  not  mean  any  thing,  she  never  knew 
"  for  sure  :"  she  only  knew  that  Mr.  Graves  was  always  kind 
to  her  and  Joseph,  and  "  that,"  she  would  say  to  herself,  "did 
not  look  like  it !" 

Mr.  Graves  had  his  thoughts  too  that  night :  very  sad 
and  disappointed  reflections,  so  far  as  himself  was  concerned, 


DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND.  317 

but  very  kind  and  Christian-like  as  respected  Margaret.  He 
wondered  why  she  and  Mr.  Joyce  did  not  get  married.  He 
concluded,  after  thinking  over  all  the  possible  whys  and 
wherefores,  that  the  reason  might  be  because  the  Balls  were 
so  poor  now-a-days.  Mr.  Ball  earned  little  and  spent  that 
little  at  the  tavern.  There  was  another  blacksmithy,  down 
by  the  factories,  now.  All  the  family  got,  Mr.  Graves  sur- 
mised, was  what  Bill  Ball  sent  home,  and  he  was  not  over 
steady  and  did  n't  send  much.  He  guessed  Margaret  must  be 
waiting  to  get  things  together  a  little. 

The  next  evening  a  piece  of  muslin  disappeared  from  the 
store.  It  was  charged  on  the  books  to  Mr.  Graves,  in  his 
own  handwriting.  No  one  asked  any  questions :  but  Mrs. 
Ball  gave  Mr.  Graves  a  great  many  thanks.  That  same 
evening  Mr.  Graves  called  at  the  tannery,  and  while  talking 
with  Mrs.  Hughes,  dropped  a  hint  that  Margaret  might  be 
engaged  to  that  young  Joyce,  and  if  she  was  n't  so  poor 
would  be  married  right  off.  A  hint  was  enough.  Mrs. 
Hughes  asked  Margaret  the  next  day,  and  Margaret  told  her 
all,  and  Mrs.  Hughes  told  Helen  Lee.  The  result  was  a  box 
full  of  things  from  Mrs.  Hughes,  with  full  sets  of  silver  spoons 
from  Mr.  Hughes :  a  complete  wedding  suit,  with  orders 
to  Batty  White  to  make  it  up  and  a  pretty  set  of  bridish 
trinkets,  from  Helen  Lee,  because  she  and  Margaret  used  to 
be  Sunday-school  scholars  together  :  and  white  China  dinner 
and  tea  sets  from  Mr.  Lee,  besides  a  good  many  useful  ar- 
ticles from  Mrs.  Lee,  because  the  Lees  had  always  liked  the 
Balls,  and  Steve  Ball  had  done  them  some  good  turns,  if  he 
was  such  a  democrat. 

Margaret  was  very  happy,  and  was  married  within  a 
month.  Kitty  White  was  bride's-maid  and  Mr.  Graves 


818  DIAMOND     TRUE     DIAMOND. 

kissed  the  bride  and  wished  her  great  joy,  without  making 
one  funereal  speech  about  it,  and  Margaret  went  away  from 
Cedarville  and  Mr.  Graves  missed  her  only  less  than  her 
mother  and  the  poor  people  at  the  factories  did. 

Mr.  Graves  went  to  the  Parsonage  occasionally :  but  he 
never  could  make  up  his  mind  to  attack  Miss  Cynthia  again, 
though  his  reception  was  always  cordial  and  flattering,  and 
he  heard  nothing  more  about  Mr.  Seymour.  Once  or  twice 
he  spent  an  evening  with  Kitty  White :  but  she  was  too 
volatile  for  his  taste  and  had  too  much  to  say  about  her 
neighbors.  At  last  he  took  to  visiting  Miss  Sarah  Hayes. 
He  went  there  so  much,  that  people  began  to  talk  about  it. 
But  Mr.  Graves  cared  not  for  this.  He  went  till  it  came 
natural  to  go,  and  Sarah  seemed  always  glad  to  see  him. 


XXXII. 


Sptnmeu  of  the  fjuman 


*  There  is  in  the  world  a  certain  class  of  mortals  known,  and  contentedly  known, 
by  the  name  of  ptmnionata  men,  who  imagine  themselves  entitled,  by  that  dis- 
tinction, to  be  provoked  on  every  slight  occasion.''  —  SAMUEL  JOHNSOX. 

MISS  CYNTHIA  STRYKER  had  returned  to  Cedarville, 
not  to  spend  a  vacation,  but  to  become  a  permanent  re*- 
ident  in  her  brother's  family.  About  mid-winter,  however, 
Miss  Cynthia  suddenly  disappeared.  The  cause  was  never 
explained  beyond  the  assertion  that  Miss  Cynthia  was  so 
fond  of  teaching,  she  could  not  be  happy  without  the  charge 
of  a  school  of  her  own.  Helen  Lee  shed  no  tears  :  and  went 
to  church,  Sundays,  without  the  fear  of  hearing  from  Perry 
Seymour  through  Miss  Stryker,  who  never  omitted  an  op- 
portunity of  reminding  Helen  that  Mr.  Seymour  was  her 
particular  friend.  Indeed  she  once  dropped  a  hint  of  a  cor- 
respondence. She  had  at  least  received  one  letter  from  Mr. 
Seymour. 

The  rest  of  the  winter  passed  with  no  signal  event.  The 
summer  came  again  with  its  visitors  and  gayety.  Albert  Sey- 
mour, Esq.,  honored  Truro  with  his  presence  for  a  day  or 
two:  but  his  reception  was  so  cold,  Hele:i  so  inaccessible 
and  Mr.  Langdou  Murray  so  much  in  the  way  of  his  hopes, 
that  he  gave  up  hope  and  went  in  search  of  a  fortune  else- 
where. Helen  still  preserved  the  position  of  a  school  -girl. 


320  A     SPECIMEN     U  ;• 

She  devoted  herself  to  her  studies :  kept  out  of  the  way  of 
company ;  and  allowed  no  one  the  freedom  of  her  friendship 
except  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  whom  she  liked  more  and 
more.  The  nearer  she  came  to  the  verge  of  society,  the 
more  she  shrunk  from  it  and  clung  with  a  fond  tenacity  to 
the  rights  and  immunities  of  her  girlhood. 

But  her  time  was  up.  She  was  eighteen :  and  her  sisters 
decided  that  she  must  "  come  out."  The  family  were  once 
more  to  spend  their  winters  in  the  city  of  New  York.  The 
old  i  aoms  at  Mrs.  Seymour's  were  again  engaged.  Emma 
Darling  was  to  introduce  the  debutante  by  a  grand  party,  the 
first,  and  it  was  expected  to  be  the  most  splendid  of  the  sea- 
son. Theresa  Lee,  if  she  returned  from  Europe,  which  was 
uncertain,  so  necessary  did  she  imagine  the  latitude  of  Italy 
to  be  for  her  health,  was  to  give  another  party  in  honor  of 
her  young  sister-in-law.  Already  "  society"  in  New  York 
was  agitated  in  expectation  of  the  grand  affair  that  was  to 
come  off  at  Mrs.  Gracie  Darling's ;  and  the  extraordinary 
beauty  of  Helen  Lee  and  the  certainty  of  her  being  the  belle 
of  the  season,  were  the  edifying  subjects  of  discussion. 

It  was  a  bright  sunny  morning,  the  last  day  of  October, 
and  only  two  days  before  the  appointed  evening  for  Mrs. 
Darling's  party.  The  piazza  at  Truro  was  covered  with 
trunks.  The  carriage  was  drawn  up  before  the  door;  and 
the  large  two-horse  country  wagon  stood  at  the  side  door, 
ready  to  receive  the  servants  find  baggage.  Mrs.  Lee  had 
already  entered  the  carriage  and  Helen  had  one  foot  on  the 
steps  and  with  her  head  turned  was  saying  a  last  word 
and  laughing  her  adieus  to  Miss  Brown  and  little  Hetty. 
She  was  as  evor  in  high  spirits  and  her  laugh  was  as  melli- 
fluous and  mellow  a*  the  song  of  birds. 


THE     HUMAN     BRAMBLE.  321 

"  Come  Nellie,  get  in,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  as  he  turned  away 
from  Caesar,  to  whorn  he  had  been  giving  his  last  orders. 

The  word;:  were  not  spoken,  when  a  rider  came  dashing 
up  the  avenue,  at  headlong  speed,  his  horse  covered  with 
foam.  It  was  Rupert's  servant  man.  He  turned  off  by  the 
road  that  led  to  the  stables,  and  appeared  again  in  a 
minute,  dismounted  and  leading  his  horse,  at  the  end  of  the 
piazza. 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Thomas  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Lee,  advanc- 
ing toward  him. 

The  answer  was  too  low  for  the  ladies  to  hear,  but  Mr.  Lee 
instantly  returned  to  them. 

"  We  can  not  go  this  morning,"  he  said,  extending  his 
hand  to  Mrs.  Lee,  who  passively  suffered  herself  to  be  helped 
out  of  the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Lee  continued  speaking. 
"  Rupert  has  met  with  an  accident  of  some  sort.  He  will  be 
here  directly.  Nellie,  dear,  you  see  that  his  room  is  put  in  or- 
der. Caesar  send  one  of  the  men  down  to  the  village  for  Dr. 
Lowe,  and  another  on  the  roan  mare  to  Montgomery  for  the 
doctor  there.  And  you,  my  dear,"  addressing  his  wife,  "  had 
better  order  dinner,  or  we  shall  be  without  that  important  meal." 

Mr.  Lee's  orders,  delivered  in  a  cheerful  tone,  set  each  one 
to  work  at  something,  and  prevented  the  excitement  which 
usually  follows  a  first  alarm.  The  orders  were  executed, 
traveling  dresses  laid  aside  and  the  innumerable  things, 
which  the  sudden  change  of  arrangement  rendered  necessary, 
were  accomplished,  and  they  waited  long  in  painful  anxiety 
before  the  lumbering  farm-wagon,  which  carried  the  unfortu- 
nate Rupert,  came  slowly  up  the  avenue.  They  knew  only 
that  his  horse  had  made  a  false  leap,  that  he  had  been  taken 
up  senseless  and  that  at  least  his  leg  was  broken.  They 

14* 


822  A     SPECIMEN     OF 

hardly  learned  more  than  this  after  his  arrival.  The  physi- 
cians announced  that  his  hip  was  dislocated,  that  he  would 
be  confined  for  weeks,  perhaps  months,  but  that  the  extent 
and  seriousness  of  the  injuries  could  not  be  determined  till 
the  inflammation  subsided :  till  then,  his  situation  was 
critical. 

All  idea  of  New  York  was  necessarily  dismissed.  None, 
perhaps,  were  very  sorry,  so  far  as  any  preference  for  New 
York  to  Truro  was  concerned,  except  Mr.  Lee  and  Monsieur 
Mai  Hart.  Master  Robert  was  a  little  disappointed  that  he 
was  not  to  ride  his  pony  "  all  the  way  to  the  city,"  but,  on 
the  whole,  he  would  rather  stay  at  Truro.  As  for  Miss 
Brown  she  was  more  pleased  than,  considering  the  accident, 
was  just  consistent  with  her  very  strict  rules  of  propriety ;  for 
Miss  Brown  was  to  have  staid  behind,  not  at  Truro,  but  at 
the  Tannery,  she  having  been  wholly  transferred  to  the  gov- 
ernesship  of  little  Hetty  Hughes.  But  it  was  immediately 
decided  that  Miss  Brown  should  stay  where  she  was,  and  that 
things  should  go  on,  for  the  present  at  least,  in  their  old 
train. 

Letters  from  Emma  Darling  expressed  in  words,  a  suitable 
degree  of  concern  for  "  poor  Rupert,"  and,  in  real  feeling,  sin- 
cere distress  that  Helen's  coming-out  could  not  be  the  first 
great  party  of  the  season.  She  did  hope  Rupert  was  not 
seriously  injured  ;  if  not,  Helen  must  come  immediately  to 
the  city.  There  was  no  necessity  for  her  immuring  her- 
self at, Truro.  It  would  be  absurd  to  think  of  such  a  thing. 
If  Rupert  was  to  be  long  confined,  a  nurse  must  instantly  be 
procured,  and  Nellie  be  released. 

The  nurse  was  procured ;  but  Helen  was  invincible  in  her 
determination  to  stay,  too.  Not  only  had  sh"  always  been 


THE     HUMAN     BRAMBLE.  328 

indifferent  to  a  winter  in  New  York,  save  for  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  Mrs.  Seymour  and  Mr.  Sickles ;  but  there  must  be 
some  one  to  superintend  the  nurse,  and  keep  her  mother  and 
father  cheerful,  and  do  for  Rupert  what  no  nurse  could  do, 
and  what  Mrs.  Lee  had  not  strength  or  efficiency  to  do. 
More  letters  came  from  Emma.  What  could  she,  a  mere 
child,  do  in  a  sick-room  ?  She  was  better  out  of  the  way, 
thau  in  it.  The  world,  especially  after  so  much  had  been 
said  about  her  coming-out,  would  not  understand  it.  She 
was  sure  it  was  a  mere  romantic  notion,  a  child's  pious 
whim,  that  she  must  be  useful  at  the  expense  of  innocent  and 
reasonable  enjoyment.  She  must  get  rid  of  such  horrid 
ideas.  She  had  been  too  much  under  certain  influences.  It 
was  desirable  in  every  way  that  she  should  be  removed  from 
them.  And  when,  pray,  did  she  mean  to  come  out,  if  not 
now  ?  Helen  smiled  at  her  sister's  pertinacity,  and  was 
amused  at  the  importance  attached  to  this  matter  of  "  com- 
ing-out." Nor  did  she  fail  to  detect  that  there  was  more  dis- 
appointment on  Emma's  part  at  missing  the  eclat  of  Helen's 
introduction  to  the  world,  than  any  deep  grief  at  Helen's 
particular  loss. 

Mr.  Lee  attempted  to  add  his  persuasions  to  Emma's. 
But  Helen  laughed  him  out  of  them.  The  fact  was,  that  Mr. 
Lee  was  not  anxious  to  dismiss  Helen.  If  she  left  Truro,  he 
must  stay  there ;  and  winter  quarters  in  that  lonely  retreat 
were  not  attractive  to  him  in  his  present  feverish  state  of 
mind.  He  must  have  excitement.  So  Emma  fretted  in 
vain,  while  Helen  was  happy  at  Truro. 

Helen  had  never  known  Rupert  well.  She  had  come  less 
in  contact  with  him  than  with  any  of  her  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. He  had  maintained  a  separate  existence  from  them  all, 


824  A     SPECIMKN     OF 

following  his  own  inclinations,  without  asking  leave,  or  being 
called  to  account.  She  had  full  time  and  ample  opportunity 
to  find  him  cut  now ;  for  the  fall  and  winter  months  passed 
away  before  he  was  able  to  leave  his  room.  There  was  not 
much  to  find  out  ;  at  least,  so  far  as  variety  was  concerned. 
His  character  seemed  mainly  composed  of  one  element — self- 
ishness ;  but  that  was  so  ingrained,  so  intense,  so  absorbing, 
that  Nellie  thought  she  never  could  find  the  bottom  of  it. 

It  was  nothing  in  Rupert's  estimation,  that  by  his  accident 
the  plans  of  the  whole  family  were  deranged  and  Nellie  was 
imprisoned  in  the  country  at  the  critical  moment  when  the 
doors  of  society  were  to  be  thrown  open  and  her  entree  on 
the  stage  was  to  cause  a  vast  sensation.  Of  her  possible  dis- 
appointment and  of  the  inconvenience  the  rest  might  suft'er, 
Rupert  did  not  think  :  he  thought  only  of  his  own  misfor- 
tune, and  managed  by  his  ill-humor  and  selfishness  to  make 
that  a  greater  misfortune  to  every  one  else.  He  worried  and 
complained,  swore  at  the  servants,  was  satisfied  with  nothing, 
required  impracticable  things,  and  never  seemed  aware  that 
others  had  feelings,  or  could  be  fatigued  or  annoyed. 

"  Is  this  coarse,  selfish,  wicked  fellow,  my  brother  ?"  Nellie 
would  ask  herself.  "  The  son  of  my  polite  father  and 
gentle  mother." 

Rupert  soon  discovered  that  Nellie  was  a  handy  nurse,  a 
delightful  reader,  and  always  a  lively  and  inspiriting 
companion.  He  would  have  kept  her  in  his  room,  fussing 
with  pillows  and  bolsters,  medicines  and  drinks,  or  reading, 
or  talking,  all  the  time  ;  and  scolded  her,  too,  in  the  bargain, 
if  he  could.  But  she  had  no  intention  of  suffering  martyr- 
dom to  please  him.  She  had  never  wearied,  day  nor  night, 
in  tending  Maria's  sick  bed.  But  Maria  was  lovable : 


THE     HUMAN     BRAMBLE.  325 

Rupert  was  not.  Nellie  confessed  to  herself,  that  she  loved 
him  either  not  at  all,  or  only  as  one  must  love  so  near  a  re- 
lation. What  she  did  for  him  was  in  the  way  of  duty,  not 
pleasure. 

Had  Helen  Lee  been  a  very  good  girl,  she  would  have  set 
herself  to  work  to  improve  the  accident  for  Rupert's  benefit, 
and  would  rather  have  rejoiced  in  it,  as  affording  a  hopeful 
chance  for  turning  his  thoughts  to  better  things.  She  would 
have  instituted  a  systematic  course  of  reading,  leading  on 
from  sober  to  serious  and  serious  to  solemn ;  she  would  have 
approached  his  heart  by  a  series  of  attacks,  in  the  way  of 
talks  and  lectures ;  and  she  would  have  exhibited  such  an 
example  of  gentle  patience,  suffering  meekness,  and  heroic 
amiability,  as  should  win  his  admiration  for  herself  and  all 
Christians  in  general,  and  conquer  his  aversion  to  religion. 
But  Nellie  could  not  have  been  very  good,  for  she  never  even 
thought  of  all  this.  She  did,  indeed,  pray  for  Rupert ;  she 
prayed  that  the  accident  might  be  over-ruled  for  good ;  but 
as  for  undertaking  the  over-ruling  of  it  herself,  she  never 
dreamed  that  it  came  within  the  scope  of  her  powers  ;  she  felt 
no  call  to  it.  She  did  not  aim  even  to  impress  him  by  a 
sublime  display  of  patience,  meekness,  and  amiability.  If 
she  was  ever  gentle,  enduring,  and  forbearing,  it  was  because 
these  were  virtues  she  loved  for  their  own  sake  and  never 
thought  of  putting  on  for  the  sake  of  effect. 

Nellie  was  no  prodigy  in  the  way  of  these  virtues.  Some- 
times it  must  be  confessed,  a  spice  of  temper  flavored  her 
conduct ;  and  Rupert  soon  learned  that  he  must  mind  his 
p's  and  q's  with  her,  and  must  be  himself  very  good,  if  he 
would  secure  her  kind  offices.  Rupert  WAS  too  selfish  to 
part  with  these,  and  so  he  selfishly  succumbed. 


326  A     SPECIMEN     OF 

An  instance  of  Nellie's  spirit  flamed  out  on  him,  the 
second  Sunday  after  the  accident.  When  she  had  come  to 
his  room  in  the  morning,  bonneted  and  cloaked  for  church, 
he  had  not  looked  over  pleased.  But  when  she  appeared 
again  in  the  same  dress  in  the  afternoon,  he  looked  positively 
angry. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  he  asked,  surlily. 

"  To  church,"  she  answered,  with  a  tone  that  said,  "  Please, 
sir,  what  business  is  it  of  yours  ?" 

Rupert  ripped  out  an  imprecation  against  the  church  and 
all  church-going  people. 

Helen's  eyes  flashed.  "Hark,  sir,"  she  said.  "You  are 
the  son  of  a  gentleman,  and  disgrace  your  father  by  your 
rudeness.  You  are  the  son  of  a  Christian  mother,  and 
shame  her  by  your  profanity.  And  if  you  have  not  regard 
enough  for  them  to  use  proper  language,  you  will  please,  sir, 
to  remember  what  is  due  to  me  as  a  lady,  and  never  insult 
my  ears  with  such  expressions  again !" 

Rupert  uttered  a  bad  word,  but  in  a  lower  tone  :  it  was 
only  the  force  of  habit. 

"  Rupert,"  said  Nellie,  with  increasing  warmth,  "  you  are 
a  bad,  selfish,  impertinent  fellow  !  I  '11  not  bear  it." 

He  was  unused  to  such  plain  speaking.  He  quailed  be- 
fore Nellie's  determined  and  indignant  glance.  These  men 
of  outrageous  temper  always  cower  before  a  resolute  oppo- 
sition. Rupert  did. 

"  Nellie,  I  'm  sorry.  It 's  a  bad  habit  I  can't  break 
myself." 

"You  can,  Rupert,  and  must  when  talking  with  me," 
Nellie  answered,  in  a  softer  tone,  but  not  less  firmly. 


THE     HUMAN     BRAMBLE.  327 

"  I  will,  Nellie,"  he  said,  as  meekly  as  a  lamb,  if  he  could 
l>e  lamb-like  in  any  thing1. 

Helen  left  the  room  and  returned  soon  without  bonnet  or 
shawl.  She  had  been  angry  and  felt  that. some  such  ex- 
pression of  her  regard  to  his  wishes  was  necessary,  to  show 
that  there  was  no  unkindness  in  her  anger.  Rupert  was 
glad.  He  had  not  magnanimity  enough  to  bid  her  go  as 
she  wished.  It  was  easier  to  keep  down  his  temper,  than  to 
act  unselfishly.  But  now  that  she  staid,  there  was  difficulty 
in  finding  any  thing  to  read.  Sunday  reading  was  not  to 
Rupert's  tajste.  Helen  would  yield  to  no  other  selection. 
He  nearly  lost  his  temper  again  and  came  near  swearing  at 
her  obstinacy.  The  life  of  John  Newton  proved,  at  last,  suf- 
ficiently attractive  to  him  and  edifying  to  her. 

It  was  seldom  and  only  under  strong  provocation  that 
Helen  so  impetuously  asserted  her  rights.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary. Rupert  confessed  her  supremacy  and  rather  coaxed 
than  commanded  her  complaisance.  He  found  that  he 
could  break  himself  of  profanity  and  could  conquer  his  tem- 
per— as  many  another  man  has  found,  when  it  has  been  for 
his  interest  to  do  so  or  when  inspired  with  fear  by  a  strong- 
er will  than  his  own.  However  like  a  simpleton  he  might 
rave  at  others,  lie  swallowed  his  wrath  when  Helen's  eye 
met  his,  or  her  spirited  voice  rebuked  his  folly.  That  he 
yielded  to  her  power,  was  not  so  strange,  perhaps,  gs  that  be 
coveted  its  exercise.  Many  might  have  overawed  him,  as 
she  did ;  but  they  would  have  rendered  their  society  dis- 
tasteful, and  their  authority,  odious  to  him.  Not  so  with 
Helen.  The  more  he  came  under  her  influence,  the  more 
willing  he  was  to  submit  to  it.  This  was  owing  to  no 
better  cause  than  his  arrant  selfishness.  She  was  skillful  and 


328  A     SPECIMEN     OF 

willing,  and  she  was  entertaining,  whether  she  talked,  or 
sung,  or  read,  and  she  was  always*oyous-hearted,  her  smile 
was  a  sunbeam  and  her  mirth  was  infectious : — Rupert  could 
not  afford  to  dispense  with  her  services. 

If  Helen  could  have  talked  upon  what  subjects  she 
chose,  or  read  what  books  she  pleased,  the  many  hours  spent 
in  that  sick  room  might  have  been  agreeable  and  profitable. 
But  she  had  to  consult  the  taste  of  a  man  who  had  chosen 
to  demean  himself  to  the  turf.  As  for  reading,  it  was  chiefly 
confined  to  sporting  journals  and  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Times." 
Punch  was  about  the  most  delectable  of  the  papers  he  would 
tolerate.  Sometimes  a  novel  was  slipped  in,  but  seldom  one 
of  her  selection. 

"  Are  not  you  tired  of  this  ?"  she  exclaimed  one  day,  paus- 
ing in  the  midst  of  a  popular  novel. 

"  Tired.     No,  are  you  I" 

"  Yes,  in  some  sort." 

"  It 's  entertaining  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Amusing?" 

"  Very." 

"  Well  written  ?" 

"  Exceedingly  well :  and  the  characters  are  drawn  to  life. 
But  it  is  so  intensely  worldly  and  unchristian." 

"  Humph  !     That 's  because  it 's  truthful." 

"  It 's  not  truthful,"  Nellie  rejoined,  with  spirit.  "  That  is, 
it  is  not  a  truthful  representation  of  society  as  it  exists  in  our 
age." 

"  How 's  that  ?  You  just  said  that  the  characters  were 
drawn  to  the  life." 

"  So  they  are.     But  they  are  all  of  one  description.     They 


THE     HITMAN     BRAMBLE.  329 

are  all  selfish  at  heart,  formal  and  superficial  in  religion  and 
fanatically  worldly." 

"  Fanatically  worldly  !  What  an  expression  !  But  after 
all  your  own  language  is  a  pretty  truthful  description  of 
society," 

"  Of  society  within  very  narrow  limits  it  may  be  :  but  not 
of  society  within  the  range  that  this  book  covers.  There 
are  Christians,  true,  faithful,  earnest  Christians,  in  the  world, 
and  many  of  them,  too.  But  to  read  this  book,  you  would 
never  suppose  so.  It  might  have  been  written  to  suit  the 
times  of  the  heathen  emperors,  or  the  dissolute  court  of 
Louis  XV.  There  's  no  Christianity  in  it." 

"  Pooh,  child  !  You  Ve  not  come  out  yet.  Wait  till 
you've  seen  the  world  before  you  judge  how  much  Christi- 
anity there  is  in  it." 

"  I  have  seen  my  mother  and  my  mother's  friends.  Truro 
has  had  enough  visitors  whose  portraits  are  in  this  book. 
But  never  yet  has  it  failed  to  be  adorned  by  some  proof  that 
there  is  a  living  Christianity.  As  for  the  writer  of  this  book, 
he  must  have  been  most  singularly  unfortunate  in  his  imme- 
diate circle  of  intimate  friends.  His  book  is  an  undesigned 
libel  on  his  mother,  his  home,  his  relatives  and  acquaintance, 
if  there  be  but  one  Christian  spirit  among  them.  He  never 
knew  a  Christian,  a  real  Christian  ;  he  has  never  seen,  which 
is  hardly  possible,  or  has  seen  afar  off,  without  appreciating  the 
loveliness,  or  comprehending  the  power  of  the  Christian  spirit." 

Helen's  eye  sparkled  and  her  face  shone  with  earnestness, 
as  she  vindicated  the  Christian  character  of  the  age.  To  her 
truthful  and  just  mind,  the  utter  ignoring  of  spiritual  Chris- 
tianity, in  books  that  pretend  to  be  accurate  portraitures  of 
society  as  it  is,  was  most  offensive. 


380  ABPECIMENOF 

"  What  a  spirit  you  have  got !"  said  Rupert,  playing  with 
her  words,  and  looking  at  her  admiringly.  "  I  believe  your 
temper  might  be  as  violent  as  mine,  if  it  did  not  take  another 
turn,"  he  added,  chuckling. 

Helen  smiled.  "  Yes,  Rupert.  I  remember  when  there 
was  a  chance  of  my  growing  up  a  virago." 

"  How  did  you  miss  it  ?" 

"A  little  English  daisy  had  something  to  do  with  it.  A 
very  kind  teacher,  not  Miss  Brown,  had  more.  And  a  bet- 
ter, wiser,  greater  Friend,  I  hope,  had  yet  more." 

"  You  talk  riddles." 

"  I  hopo  you  '11  learn  to  solve  them.  But  now,  since  this 
book  must  be  finished,  let  us  go  on." 

Rupert  was  not  averse. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  accident,  Helen  was  standing 
,by  the  window  in  the  oak-room,  watching  the  snow-storm 
and  waiting  for  the  summons  to  dinner.  Some  object,  far 
down  the  avenue,  barely  visible  through  the  clouded  air  and 
between  the  trees,  attracted  her  attention.  Slowly  it  ap- 
proached. It  was  a  vehicle  of  some  sort — a  sleigh — yes, 
now  she  hoard  the  bells  and  saw  the  horses,  weary  and  wet, 
trudging  along  through  the  unbroken  snow-drifts.  It  drew 
up  before  the  door.  Who 's  that,  smothered  in  robes,  on  the 
back  seat  ?  He  is  bowing,  as  well  as  his  cumbersome  muf- 
flers will  let  him.  It's  Mr.  Murray.  Helen  was  on  the 
piazza  in  a  minute  as  indifferent  to  the  sweeping  wind  as  if 
it  were  the  breath  of  summer,  and  to  the  thick  snow-flakes,  as 
if  they  were  adapted  only  for  ornament  and  not  for  damage. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Murray !  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you !" 

Mr.  Murray  wished  she  were  not  so  glad,  or  were  less 
frank  to  confess  it. 


THE     HUMAN     BRAMBLE.  381 

"  What  has  brought  you  here  ? — No  bad  news  ?"  she 
added,  as  the  possibility  was  suggested  by  the  slight  cloud, 
that  crossed  his  face,  so  smiling  a  moment  before. 

"  No,  no,"  answered  Mr.  Murray,  extricating  himself  at 
last  from  the  robes  and  jumping  up  the  steps  to  grasp  her 
extended  hand ;  "  only  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  and  of 
being  of  use  in  taking  care  of  your  brother,  if  I  can.  But 
please,  Miss  Helen,  come  in  out  of  the  storm.  Such  expo- 
sure in  New  York  would  certainly  result  in  consumption." 

"  Only  in  consumption  of  coals  here,  sir,  not  of  colds," 
answered  Nellie,  with  her  musical  laugh.  She  was  always 
laughing. 

Nellie  was  glad  to  see  Mr.  Murray.  They  had  grown  into 
very  fast  and  firm  friends.  He  was  a  friend  worth  having ; 
sensible,  intelligent,  agreeable,  and  large-hearted,' a  nobleman 
in  all  but  the  title.  He  staid  a  week  this  time  ;  and  besides 
the  pleasant  talks  in  the  house,  and  sleigh  rides  out  of  the 
house,  they  had  together,  he  proved  an  acceptable  compan- 
ion to  Rupert,  and  enabled  Nellie  to  enjoy  more  liberty  and 
amuse  herself  in  her  own  fashion.  She  was  sorry  when  Mr. 
Murray  left,  and  said  so,  so  plainly  that  Mr.  Murray  was 
sorry  to  hear  it. 

He  came  once  again  before  the  winter  was  over.  Except- 
ing these  two  visits,  life  at  Truro  was  monotonous  enough. 
Mr.  Lee  was  seldom  at  home.  Norton  was  at  Boston,  edit- 
ing a  scientific  journal.  He  wrote  often,  and  his  lotters  were 
less  and  less  seasoned  with  skeptical  innuendoes,  and  some- 
times were  slightly  tinctured  with  a  religious  sentiment  that 
was  not  displeasing. 

Except  an  occasional  drive  of  all  the  family  in  the  large 
eleigh,  a  bout  at  snow-balling  with  Robert  and  Hetty,  and 


332  THE     HUMAN'     BRAMBLE. 

rarely,  when  there  was  no  snow,  a  ride  on  horse-back  with 
Robert  for  an  escort  (Caesar  was  too  old  now  and  rheumatic), 
the  winter  passed  with  no  other  entertainment  than  could  be 
found  in  doors,  and  for  Nellie,  with  few  other  changes  than 
Rupert's  sick-room  could  afford. 


XXXIII. 

nd 


"Hech, lass!  how  can  ye  lo'e  that  rattle-skull f 
A  very  deil,  that  ay  maun  ha'e  his  will : 
We  '11  soon  hear  tell,  what  a  poor  fechting  life 
You  twa  will  lead,  sae  soon  's  ye 're  man  an'  wife." 
ALLAN  RAMSAY. 

PERRY  SEYMOUR  returned  from  Europe  the  ensuing 
spring.  He  had  remained  abroad  only  half  the  time 
his  friends  wished  and  urged,  but  far  longer  than  he  himself 
intended.  He  came  to  Truro.  He  was  improved  in  appear- 
ance,- and  was  cheerful  in  spirits.  Nellie  wondered  whether 
the  mysterious  cloud  had  ever  withdrawn  from  the  horizon 
of  his  happiness.  She  had  no  chance  to  ask  him. 

By  some  fatality  Cynthia  Stryker  was  at  Bedminster  par- 
sonage, spending  her  vacation.  Perry  arrived  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  after  the  late  dinner,  as  soon  as  he  politely  could, 
he  withdrew  to  pay  his  respects  at  the  parsonage.  He  did 
not  return  to  tea. 

Could  it  be  that  love  for  Cynthia  and  not  friendship  for 
Nellie  had  attracted  him  to  Cedarville  ?  Helen  herself 
asked  the  question,  and  scouted  it  as  soon  as  asked.  She 
felt  uneasy  and  unhappy,  nevertheless. 


334  THE     THISTLE      OU1ROOTED: 

u  I  do  hope,"  she  said  to  Mrs.  Hughes  the  next  day,  •'  t/iat 
Perry  will  not  be  entrapped  into  any  unsuitable  mat  h  I 
can  not  yet  believe  it  possible  that  he  is  a  victim — I  w  ,1.1  not 
speak  of  it !  I  respect  him  too  much." 

"  Cynthia  Stryker  might  be  worse  for  a  minister's  wife," 
Mrs.  Hughes  quietly  interposed. 

"  She 's  well  enough  in  her  way.  But  think  of  Perry's 
fancying  her  !  It 's  too  unsuitable  !  Why  does  not  Cynthia 
marry  Mr.  Graves  ?  That  would  be  capital." 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Graves  would  not  let  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Hughes.  "  But  I  see  you  do  not  know  the  news.  Mr.  Graves 
has  wooed  and  won  a  wife." 

"  Whom  ?" 

"  Guess." 

"  Some  one  in  the  village  ?" 

"Yes." 
.     "  I  am  sure  I  can  not  tell,  unless  it  is  Cynthia." 

"  No,  indeed.  It  is  an  old  friend  of  yours — Sarah 
Hayes." 

"  How  could  Sarah  fancy  him  ?" 

"  You  have  not  seen  much  of  Mr.  Graves  lately.  He  is 
improved.  Sarah  has  done  it,  I  guess.  Even  Steve  Ball 
and  he  are  friends,  now-a-days.  Steve  is  reconciled  to  him 
for  no  other  reason  in  the  world,  I  believe,  than  because  Mr. 
Graves  begins  to  appreciate  and  venerate  our  dear  old  pastor 
Mr.  Poole.  He  thinks  now  that  there  may  be  electricity 
without  thunder,  and  good  done  without  noise." 

"  Mr.  Graves  is  to  be  married  to  Sarah  Hayes  ?"  Helen 
repeated  reflectively,  giving  no  attention  to  what  Mrs. 
Hughes  had  just  said.  "  That  is  the  reason  he  has  built 
himself  a  house." 


BRAMBLH     AND     PASSION-FLOWER.  835 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Who  did  you  suppose  was  to  live 
in  it?" 

"  I  thought  he  might  have  a  mother  or  sister  or  some  old 
body  to  keep  house  for  him." 

Near  Slater  &  Graves'  store,  a  year  previous,  had  Mr. 
Graves  laid  the  foundation  of  a  dwelling-house.  Slowly  and 
at  intervals,  as  new  erections  in  the  country  are  apt,  the 
building  had  progressed  and  hardly  was  well  closed  in  be- 
fore the  winter  poured  down  its  rains  and  heaped  up  its 
snows  on  the  shining  new  shingles  of  its  roof.  Through  the 
cold  months  the  sound  of  hammering  had  issued  from  within, 
and  the  smoke  of  fires  to  dry  the  plaster  had  curled  up  from 
its  two  brick  chimneys.  Paint  and  Venetian  window-blinds 
finished  up  its  outside  appearance,  in  the  spring,  and  gave  it 
a  habitable  air.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes  had  lent  their  in- 
valuable aid  in  the  planting  of  trees  and  shrubbery  (not  a 
dwelling  in  the  village,  except  the  parsonage  and  tavern,  but 
had  caught  the  mania  for  floral  embellishment  since  the 
Hughes  had  come  to  live  in  the  Tannery).  Mr.  Graves' 
residence  at  last  was  complete,  and  invited  occupants,  nor  in- 
vited long. 

On  the  very  eve  of  summer,  that  is  the  last  day  of  spring, 
Mr.  Amos  Graves  and  Miss  Sarah  Hayes  were  united  in 
marriage  by  the  Rev.  James  Stryker.  How  little  Mr.  Graves 
thought,  long  years  ago,  that  the  red-haired  Sunday-school 
scholar  who  st?»red  at  him  from  lashless  eyes,  and  skulked 
away  from  him  into  the  cow-shed,  would  pronounce  the 
words  that  would  make  him  the  happiest  man  in  the 
world.  Such  is  this  topsy-turvy  world.  We  know  not, 
to-day,  who  will  be  at  the  head  and  who  at  the  foot  to- 
morrow. 


336  THE     THISTLE     OUTROOTEDI 

The  wedding  was  quiet,  sedate  and  very  respectable.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Lee  and  Nellie,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Slater  and  all  the  Lowes  were  there  to  dignify  it, 
besides  every  one  else  in  the  village  that  was  any  one. 

That  marriage  ceremony  was  the  last  pastoral  act  of  the 
Rev.  James  Stryker  in  the  village  of  Cedarville. 

Dissatisfaction  had  been  brewing  for  some  time  in  the 
Cedarville  church.  The  old  people,  with  the  long  ministry 
of  their  old  pastor  fresh  in  memory,  had  never  liked  the 
ways  of  the  new  minister.  The  young  people  tired  of 
the  man  himself.  The  school  had  gradually  absorbed,  not 
only  Mr.  Stryker's  time,  but  his  enthusiasm.  His  former 
vehemence  were  better  than  his  present  apathy.  People  be- 
gan to  talk  about  it.  The  talk  began  on  the  outer  edges  of 
society,  as  it  were.  A  word  spoken  in  a  corner,  then  a 
whisper  in  the  store,  then  a  hint  at  the  church  door  :  then  a 
little  discussion  at  a  quilting  to  which  Mrs.  Stryker  was  ac- 
cidentally not  invited  :  till  at  last  words,  whispers,  hints  and 
discussion  grew  into  a  general  buzz,  and  the  matter  was 
talked  over  freely,  every  where  and  by  every  one.  Even  at 
the  tavern  it  was  brought  on  the  carpet — saving  that  the 
bar-room  floor  was  sanded.  Steve  Ball  boasted  how  he  used 
to  go  to  church,  and  hosv  he  'd  like  to  go  again,  but  he 
were  n't  going  as  long  as  that  man  was  pastor.  Tim  Whit- 
taker  too.  expressed  a  sort  of  penitent  wish  to  be  decent  once 
more,  as  he  used  to  be,  and  shut  up  bar  and  go  to  church 
Sundays,  if  they  had  a  parson  that  would  n't  point  his  finger 
at  him,  and  hold  him  up  to  scorn  all  the  time,  when  he 
were  n't  worse  nor  the  rest  of  'em,  and  when  he  was  in  the 
pew  and  could  n't  get  out  of  it. 

Amid  all  this  ferment.  Mr.  Amos  Graves,  onco  so   artivo 


BRAMBLE     AND     PASSION-FLOWER.  337 

and  officious,  was  unaccountably  inert  and  apparently  un- 
conscious of  what  was  going  on. 

Opportunely  tlie  Rev.  James  Stryker  received  a  call  to  the 
Presidency — not  of  the  United  States — but  of  a  college. 
He  accepted.  His  farewell  sermon  was  preached  the  Sun- 
day before  Mr.  Graves  was  married  ;  and  just  as  one  house 
in  the  village  was  newly  occupied,  the  parsonage  was  shut 
up  :  a  dreary,  desolate,  shabby-looking  place,  with  no  grass 
or  shrubbery  to  enliven  it,  and  no  trees  to  hide  the  staring 
nakedness  of  the  school-house  which  remaind  a  monument 
of  Mr.  Stryker's  architectural  taste. 

The  first  week  in  June,  Truro  opened  its  hospitable  door 
to  the  first  guests  of  the  summer.  With  the  roses,  the 
very  earliest  of  them,  came  Mr.  Murray,  always  welcome. 

Rupert  was  limping  about  on  crutches,  emancipated  from 
his  room,  but  still  a  prisoner  within  the  limits  of  his  own 
powers  of  locomotion,  interdicted  all  violent  exercise,  even 
so  much  as  the  motion  of  a  carnage.  For  him,  who  loved  a 
horse's  back,  this  was  a  hardship.  But  it  was  beneficial. 
Driven  to  the  parlor  for  amusement,  he  was  in  the  way  of 
some  refining  influences  which  he  had  heretofore  avoided 

"  Mr.  Rupert  is  getting  quite  civilsised,  Miss  Helen,"  said 
his  man,  Thomas,  one  day. 

"  How  so,  Thomas  ?"  asked  Helen  for  the  sake  of  en- 
couraging him  to  proceed,  for  he  evidently  had  something 
to  communicate.  Having  on  occasions  shielded  him  from 
the  passionate  outbursts  of  Rupert's  violent  temper,  Thomas 
had  learned  to  regard  her  as  his  particular  friend  and  had 
grown  confidential  in  all  matters  that  pertained  to  his 
master. 

16 


338  THE     THISTLE     OUTROOTBD. 

"Well,  Miss  Helen,"  he  replied,  deliberately,  and  pausing 
to  con  over  the  hardest  words  he  could  drag  in,  for  he  saw 
he  had  leave  to  talk.  "  Mr.  Rupert  is  grown  agreeable  and 
in  a  general  way  eoniplacent.  He  is  indeed  quite  tractitable 
and  domesticated.  It 's  my  opinion,  Miss  Helen,  to  the  best 
of  my  judgment,  that  some-ut  more  than  or' nary  has  inci- 
dentally affected  Mr.  Rupert's  comportment." 

Helen  saw  that  she  was  expected  to  ask  what  that 
might  be. 

"  In  my  opinion,  to  the  best  of  my  judgment,  Miss  Helen," 
he  answered,  looking  very  wise,  "  it 's  love." 

"Love!" 

"  Yes,  miss,  I  Ve  carefully  inspected  into  this  case,  and  am 
sure  that  Mr.  Rupert  is  under  the  influence  of  them  tender 
sentiments  which  love  uispirates." 

"  Why,  Thomas,  whom  in  the  world  is  he  in  love 
with  ?" 

"  With  Miss  Pauline,  Miss  Helen  :  and  she,  miss,  entirely 
returns  the — the — " 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  asked  Helen,  not  waiting 
till  he  could  select  a  delectable  word  from  his  extensive 
vocabulary. 

"  P'raps  should  I  infonn  you,  you  'd  only  laugh  more." 
Helen's  merry  laugh  had  responded  to  all  Thomas  had 
said. 

.    "No  matter  for  my  laughing,  Thomas,"  she  said,  "let's 
have  your  reasons." 

"  Well,  miss,  p'rhaps  they  '11  not  be  commendable  to  you ; 
but  I  know  that  a  dog  has  more  natur'  about  'm,  nor  any 
one.  It  beats  all  how  much  natur'  a  dog  has ;  and  when  a 
dog  affectionizes  a  young  lady,  as  Lion  does  Miss  Pauline, 


BRAMBLE     AND     PASSION-FLOWER.  339 

it's  just  as  certain  as  fortuitous  events  can  be,  that  that 
young  lady  agitates  warm  sentiments  to  that  dog's  master." 

Nellie's  laugh  rung  out  now  with  uncontrolled  merriment, 
and  she  ran  away  from  Thomas  that  she  might  enjoy  it  to 
the  full.  But  her  eyes  were  opened  to  what  she  had  never 
suspected,  but  was  indeed  true. 

Miss  Pauline  Delane,  a  young  Louisianian,  of  French  de- 
scent, full  of  life  and  gayety,  with  a  sprightliness  of  mind  and 
manners  that  gave  animation  to  a  rather  plain  face,  had 
come  to  Truro  in  the  train  of  Charlotte  Gaylord,  and  was 
captivated  with  Rupert  Lee's  good  looks. 

With  all  his  knowledge  of  men  and  horses,  he  had  none 
of  women,  and  fell  an  easy  victim  to  the  fascinations  of  the 
charmer.  She  suited  him.  She  was  rich.  Rupert  was  in 
love  ;  at  least  anxious  to  secure  love,  and  made  gentle  by 
the  seeking  it. 

This  turn  in  affairs  was  fortunate  for  Nellie.  It  relieved 
her  of  the  necessity  of  entertaining  Pauline,  who,  as  the  only 
young  lady  visitor,  would  have  fallen  especially  to  her  lot ; 
and  it  saved  her  from  the  wearisome  effort  to  find  or  make 
amusement  for  Rupert.  From  this  time  she  gave  up  the 
special  charge  she  had  over  him.  But  Rupert  and  she  knew 
each  other  now,  and  never  could  be  indifferent  to  each  other 
as  of  old ;  howbeit,  he  could  never  appreciate  her  or  "  her 
like,"  as  Thomas  remarked. 


XXXIV. 

je  Jte-tm  anfo  I  ^0rn-bnslr 


"  If  it  prove  so,  then  loving  goes  by  hap*  : 
Some  Cupid  kills  with  arrows,  some  with  traps." 

SHAKSPEARB. 

DERRY  SEYMOUR  Lad  promised  his  friends  at  Truro,  and 
-*-  his  friend  the  Rev.  James  Stryker,  that  he  would  preach 
his  second  sermon  after  licensure  (the  first  he  owed  to  the 
church  of  his  mother's  and  his  own  membership),  in  the 
Cedarville  pulpit.  The  promise  was  fulfilled  on  the  first 
Sunday  of  June  :  the  very  first  Sunday  that  succeeded  Mr. 
Stryker's  demission  of  the  pastoral  office. 

Perry,  with  his  free,  frank,  and  sociable  ways,  had  made 
himself  acquainted  with  and  a  favorite  of  the  villagers,  in  his 
boyhood.  All  came  now  to  hear  him.  The  tavern  once 
more  was  closed.  Tim  Whittaker,  Steve  Ball  and  their 
crew,  went  to  church  as  in  old  time,  but  with  an  air  of  self- 
consciousness  and  sheepishness,  as  if  unused  to  the  thing  and 
suspicious  of  the  comments  of  their  neighbors. 

The  sermons  which  the  Cedarville  congregation  heard  that 
day,  were  of  the  kind  which  George  Herbert  commends  in 
the  Country  Parson  :  "  The  character  of  his  sermon  is  holi- 
ness ;  he  is  not  witty,  or  learned,  or  eloquent,  but  holy." 
They  were  simple  and  devout  in  matter  and  manner. 
They  were  impressive  and  effective.  They  afforded  no  indi- 


THE     ROSE-TREE.  341 

cations  of  more  than  ordinary  talent  in  the  preacher,  but 
they  showed  more  than  ordinary  piety.  The  hearer  felt  a 
pleasure  in  listening,  that  could  not  easily  be  traced  to  its 
cause ;  nor  could  he  tell  why  it  was  that  his  eyes  moistened 
with  tears,  or  his  heart  throbbed  with  affecting  emotions. 
As  for  Nellie,  she  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  (she  was  not 
given  to  tears)  cried  in  church.  What  made  her  cry,  when 
there  was  nothing  to  cry  for,  she  did  not  understand,  but  she 
could  not  help  it.  Yet  when  she  left  the  church,  and  heard 
every  one  commending  the  young  minister,  not  in  set  and 
customary  phrases,  but  with  genuine  warmth  and  affection- 
ate sincerity,  she  could  hardly  help  laughing  aloud  for  joy, 
and  her  face  shone  as  brightly  as  ever  the  rippling  waters  do 
in  the  dancing  sun-light. 

"  I  did  like  your  sermon,  Mr.  Seymour,"  exclaimed  little 
Hetty  Hughes,  at  the  church-door,  her  face  beaming  with 
childish  simplicity  and  frankness.  She  had  seldom  probably 
heard  a  sermon  that  she  could  like,  for  the  lack  of  compre- 
hension. Perry  returned  her  smile  with  one  as  frank  and 
heartsome,  and  gave  her  a  kiss  in  the  bargain.  Helen  ling- 
ered till  he  passed  on  ;  and  then  she  kissed  Hetty  too  ;  and 
then  she  found  herself  crying  again.  What  was  the  matter 
with  her  this  morning  ?  She  took  the  shortest  way  to  Truro 
across  the  fields,  lest  some  one  should  remark  the  traces  of 
tears  on  her  face,  and  as  she  went,  she  found  herself  repeat- 
ing and  applying  to  the  young  preacher,  as  she  had  often 
done  to  dear  Mr.  Poole,  an  odd  stanza  from  a  Lay  of  the  Kirk 
and  Covenant. 

"  And  yet  again  so  simply  clear 

The  Gospel  message  thou  could'st  speak, 
That  childhood's  heart — and  childhood's  ear, 
Gave  heed  in  comprehension  meek ; 


842  THE     ROSK-TREE 

A.nd  many  a  soul  loug  dead  in  sin 
Felt  stirrings  of  new  life  within ! 
And  learned  to  count  all  gain  a  loss 
That  stood  between  it  and  the  cross." 

The  next  day  Perry  was  waiter!  upon  by  Mr.  Graves  and 
Mr.  Hughes,  to  request  him,  in  behalf  of  the  Session,  to 
supply  their  pulpit  during  the  summer.  This  was  earnestly 
seconded  by  all  at  Truro.  Mr.  Lee  was  careful  to  impress 
upon  him  that,  if  he  accepted,  Truro  must  be  his  home. 
He  promised  to  remain  that  week,  preach  the  next  Sunday, 
and  then  give  a  decided  answer.  He  must  think  about  it, 
he  said,  and  consult  his  friends.  The  rest  of  that  day  he 
spent  in  his  own  room,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  writing 
letters.  In  reality,  he  spent  more  time  in  thinking  than 
writing,  with  many  an  earnest  and  importunate  appeal  for 
Divine  guidance.  That  which  embarrassed  his  decision 
could  be  uttered  to  none  but  to  the  Heavenly  Father.  He 
decided  to  stay. 

Helen  was  running  up  stairs,  after  dinner,  and  Caesar  was 
coming  down  with  his  hand  full  of  letters  that  were  to  go 
to  the  post-office.  Accidentally  her  fan  struck  the  letters, 
and  scattered  them  over  the  stairs.  She  stooped  down  to 
help  Caesar  to  pick  them  up,  and  save  his  old  back. 

"  How  many  were  there,  Caesar  ?" 

"  Don'  know,  Miss  Nellie.  Mr.  Seymour  gave  me  most, 
he  gave  me  four  ;  and  there  were — one,  two,  three,  four — 
I  guess  six  others." 

"  Perry  gave  you  four.  Well,  here  's  one  of  the  four,"  as 
she  recognized  the  handwriting,  and  read  a  name  to  which 
D.D.  was  attached.  Beside  it  lay  another,  in  the  same  hand- 
writing, addressed  to  Mrs.  Seymour ;  and  another  to  Mr 


AND     THORN -BUSH     AFFECTIONATE.  348 

Sickles ;  and  another,  the  longest  of  all,  for  it  was  more 
bulky  than  any  in  the  whole  handful  that  Caesar  carried,  to 
Miss  Cynthia  Siryker!  Helen's  hea.it  sickened.  "Here, 
Caesar,  take  them,  quick  !"  and  off  she  ran,  in  no  amiable 
frame  of  mind.  "  So,  then.  Cynthia  Stryker  must  be  con- 
sulted in  reference  to  this  request  of  Cedarville  church  !" 

"  A  letter  for  you,  miss,"  said  one  of  the  servants,  about  a 
week  afterward.  Helen  read  the  superscription.  It  was  a 
mistake.  The  letter  was  addressed  to  the  Rev.  Perry  Sey- 
mour, in  a  feminine  hand,  and  post-marked  from  the  town 
which  was  now  isidellibly  stamped  upon  her  memory  as  the 
place  of  Cynthia  Stryker's  residence.  She  threw  the  missive 
down  on  the  table  with  repugnance,  and  went  in  search  of 
the  servant  to  rectify  the  mistake.  Perry  met  her  at  the 
door,  and  handed  her  the  letter  she  sought. 

"  Where  is  mine  ?"  he  asked. 

She  pointed  to  the  table  ;  and,  hardly  aware  of  her  own 
purpose,  watched  to  see  what  reception  it  would  meet  with. 
Perry  took  it  up,  read  the  address,  and  smiled  (she  thought) 
a  smile  of  pleasure. 

From  that  day  Helen  sedulously  avoided,  with  a  feeling 
of  horror,  examining  the  address  of  any  of  his  letters ;  and 
as  they  were  numerous,  because  of  the  hosN  of  friends  he 
always  had,  she  did  not  know  but  that  he  and  Cynthia  wrote 
to  each  other  by  every  alternate  mail.  At  least  she  was 
sure  that  there  was  cause  for  her  worst  fears.  There  was 
something  between  them. 

Helen  could  not  forgive  Perry  for  fancying  Cynthia 
Stryker.  It  lowered  him  in  her  esteem.  Neither  could  she 
forget  it.  She  tried  in  vain  not  to  think  about  it.  "Why 
should  I  care  ?"  she  would  say  to  herself;  "it  is  nothing  to 


344  THE     ROSE-TREK 

me,  save  as  I  desire  his  happiness  ;  and  if  he  is  happy,  I  do 
not  know  why  I  should  vex  myself  about  it !"  Nellie  did 
not  know  every  tiling. 

Insensibly  her  feelings  modified  her  manner  toward  Perry. 
Cynthia  was  ever  between  her  and  him  as  a  separating  me- 
dium. Free,  cordial,  and  simply  affectionate  once,  she  grew 
now  reserved  and  ceremonious,  just  as  she  would  have  been 
had  Miss  Stryker  been  visibly  present,  as  she  was  invisibly, 
as  a  third  party  at  their  interviews.  It  Avas  "  Mr.  Seymour," 
inste.id  of  "  Perry,"  and  he  fell  back  on  "  Miss  Lee,"  in  place 
of  the  endeared  diminutive  "  Nellie."  Only  once  and  a 
while  the  ice  melted  between  them,  and  they  found  them- 
selves talking  in  the  old  familiar  way. 

Sometimes,  too,  when  Perry  conversed  with  others,  and 
his  fresh  and  vigorous  thoughts  were  uttered  with  a  fluent 
and  unstudied  eloquence  that  few  conversationalists  attain, 
all  remembrance  of  Cynthia  faded  from  her  mind.  In 
church  she  was  never  troubled  with  that  ugly  recollection. 
There  Perry  was  indeed  himself,  and  commanded  all  atten- 
tion to  himself  and  his  theme.  After  such  seasons,  the 
question  would  recur  with  redoubled  force :  "  How  can  it 
be  ? — so  good,  sensible,  and  gifted — how  could  he  be  caught 
by  that  weak,  uninteresting,  and  unrefined  girl  ?"  She  could 
only  palliate  it  by  the  surmise  that  Cynthia's  reputation  for 
extraordinary  piety  had  attracted  Perry,  who,  as  other  good 
men  have  done,  fallaciously  judged  piety  alone  essential  to  a 
minister's  wife.  "  Poor  Perry !"  she  would  say,  "  may  he 
never  discover  his  mistake  !" 

Another  thing  puzzled  her :  Why  was  Perry  so  incom- 
municative ?  Why  did  the  name  of  Cynthia  never  escape 
his  lips,  in  the  most  confidential  moments  ?  This  she  inter- 


AND     THORN -BUSH     AFFECTIONATE.  845 

preted  as  an  evidence  of  diminished  regard  for  herself.  He 
did  not  feel  toward  her  as  in  old  times.  Thus  the  breach 
widened  between  them,  and  rendered  her  ever  more  distant, 
and  him  increasingly  formal. 

Of  all  at  Truro,  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  was  Nellie's  most 
esteemed  friend.  But  he  did  not  have  her  all  to  himself 
this  summer.  She  was  now  a  young  lady  ;  not  less  a  child, 
nor  more  a  woman,  than  she  was  the  last  summer,  but  recog- 
nized as  one  that  was  "  out,"  a  full-dressed  lady,  arrayed  in 
the  height  of  the  fashion  by  Emma  Darling's  sisterly  care 
(so  far,  at  least,  as  Helen's  simpler  taste  would  allow),  and 
entitled  to  her  place  in  all  schemes  of  entertainment,  and 
the  consideration  of  her  opinion  in  all  matters  of  family  ar- 
rangement. Beautiful  exceedingly,  sprightly  and  rich,  she 
was,  of  necessity,  an  object  of  universal  admiration,  and  the 
victim  of  particular  attentions.  The  circle  at  Truro  was 
select.  Helen  attracted  the  best.  Mr.  Murray's  heart  often 
fluttered  when  he  saw  how  Helen  was  attended.  But  still 
he  could  say  to  himself  that  he  was  preferred  to  all. 

The  summer  ;it  Truro  was  spent  in  more  agreeable  and 
less  gay  and  frivolous  amusements  than  preceding  summer? 
had  been.  Helen  gave  a  tone  to  the  home-circle  it  hac1 
never  had  before  ;  and  Mr.  Seymour's  presence  in  the  familj 
was  felt  for  good.  There  were  prayers  now,  morning  and 
evening ;  Mr.  Lee  was  always  present  at  these  devotional 
services,  and  even  Rupert  was  sometimes  attracted,  if  not  by 
serious  thoughts,  then  by  the  presence  of  Pauline  Delane. 
On  Sundays,  the  Truro  pews  were  always  crowded.  But 
pleasant  summers  must  come  to  an  ond ;  so  did  this.  It  ended 
with  a  pleasant  event,  the  acceptance  of  a  call  to  the  pastor- 
ship of  the  Cedarville  church  by  the  Rev.  Perry  Seymour, 

15*' 


346  THE     R  0  8  E  -  T  li  E  K 

"  Kitty  While  has  just  left  here,"  said  Mrs.  Hughes  to 
Helen,  when  the  hitler  called  to  see  her  one  day. 

"  Well  ?"  Helen  responded,  iuqui;  iiigly,  surprised  that  Mrs, 
Hughes  should  communicate  so  trivial  a  fact. 

"  She  had  just  come  from  Mrs.  Stryker's,"  Mrs.  Hughes 
continued ;  "  she  is  to  make  a  new  silk  dress  for  the  olJ 
lady  to  wear  at  Cynthia's  wedding." 

"  Iudee,i !"  said  Helen,  peevishly. 

"  Mrs.  Stryker  told  her  Cynthia  was  to  be  married  next 
month  to  a  youug  minister,  who  has  received  and  accepted 
a  call  to  a  village  church." 

"  Does  Kitty  know,"  Helen  asked,  "  that  Mr.  Seymour  in- 
tends to  accept  the  call  here,  and  is  to  be  ordained  next 
month  ?" 

"  No." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  for  she  will  not  spread  the  report 
through  the  village  that  Cynthia  is  to  marry  Mr.  Seymour. 
He  must  wish  to  keep  it  a  secret,  for  he  has  said  nothing 
about  it  at  Truio." 

"  How  strange  !"  Mrs.  Hughes  exclaimed.  "  Are  you  sure 
he  has  not  told  your  father  ?" 

"  It  has  been  in  confidence,  if  he  has.  Does  not  Kitty 
suspect  Mr.  Seymour  ?" 

"  Yes ;  she  has  some  suspicions,  for  she  remembers  those 
old  visits  to  the  parsonage,  and  Bill  Jenkins,  the  clerk,  has 
let  it  out  that  lette!  s  have  passed  through  the  mail  between 
Mr.  Seymour  and  Cynthia.  But  Kitty  likes  him  so  much 
and  Cynthia  so  little,  that  she  won't  believe  it.  Mrs.  Stryker, 
too,  mystified  her  by  saying  that  she  could  not  recall  the 
name  of  the  minister  Cynthia  was  to  marry.  Kitty  thinks  the 
old  lady  would  not  have  told  her  part,  unless  willing  to  tell  all." 


AND     THORN-BUSH     AFFKCTIONATE.  34? 

"  That  confirms  the  fact  that  they  wish  to  keep  it  a  secret," 
said  Helen.  "  As  if  she  could  not  remember  the  name  of 
the  man  her  own  daughter  was  to  marry  !  How  absurd." 

"  It  seems  so  :  but  not  less  absurd  than  their  keeping  it  so 
secret,"  said  Mrs.  Hughes.  "  It  is  the  only  thing  about  Mr. 
Seymour,  except  his  marrying  her  at  all,  that  I  do  not 
like." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Helen  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  We  can  not  have  every  thing  our  way.  I  am  thankful, 
for  my  part,  that  we  are  to  have  such  a  pastor  ;  and  for  his 
sake,  I  will  try  to  like  his  wife." 

A  conclusion  in  which  Mrs.  Hughes  heartily  joined :  and 
they  talked  each  other  into  a  degree  of  amiability  toward 
Cynthia  Stryker  which  neither  had  felt  since  her  name  was 
first  coupled  with  Perry  Seymour's.  Yet  Helen  had  a  sober 
expression  on  her  face  when  she  rose  to  depart.  Mrs.  Hughes 
looked  after  her  wistfully ;  and  did  not  return,  on  parting 
with  her  at  the  door,  to  the  parlor,  but  turned  her  steps 
thoughtfully  to  the  green-house,  and  stood  for  a  long  time, 
hardly  knowing  that  she  did  so,  looking  at  the  flowers  on 
the  japonica-tree :  and  then  she  went  up  stairs,  and  prayed 
that  grace  might  be  given  where  God  best  knew  what  grace 
was  needed. 

The  ordination  services  were  solemn  and  interesting. 
With  open  hearts  the  Cedarville  people  received  their  young 
pastor. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  Perry  and  Helen  sat 
together  on  the  piazza  at  Truro.  Fully  and  freely  he  con- 
fided to  her  his  fears,  hopes,  desires,  and  determinations  as  a 


348  THK     KO  SE-'i 'RE  1 

minister  of  Christ,  It  was  a  pleasant  conversation  ;  such  an 
one  as  they  had  not  had  in  a  long  timc\ 

There  had  been  a  brief  pause,  when  Perry  remarked, 
casually, 

"  I  shall  leave  you  for  a  few  days.  I  am  going  away  to- 
morrow." 

Helen's  heart  leaped  to  her  throat,  "  He  is  going  to  tell 
me,"  she  thought.  To  hide  the  expression  of  her  own  face 
and  avoid  the  necessity  of  looking  at  his,  she  caught  up  a 
newspaper,  which  lay  open  on  the  settee  beside  her,  and  be- 
gan to  read  it.  But  what  was  it  she  saw  ?  Her  eye  was 
riveted  to  one  paragraph.  She  tried  to  speak;  but  her 
voice,  beyond  her  control,  issued  an  incoherent  scream. 

"Miss  Lee!  Helen!  Nellie  dear,  what  is  the  matter?" 
asked  Perry  in  alarm. 

But  she  was  faint  now — faint  with  hope,  fear,  surprise,  she 
knew  not  what  She  held  the  paper  to  him,  pointing  with 
her  finger.  He  read  aloud, 

"  Married,  on  the  3d  inst.,  by  the  Rev.  James  Stryker, 
D.D.,  the  Rev.  Simon  Stalker  to  Cynthia,  daughter  of  Mr. 
James  Stryker,  Senior,  of  Cedarville,  N.  Y." 

Perry  read  it  very  deliberately,  and  then  looking  wonder- 
ingly  at  Helen,  asked, 

"  What  in  the  world  is  there  in  that  announcement,  to  ex- 
cite you  so  ?" 

She  did  not  answer.  She  only  fixed  upon  him  a  scrutin- 
izing gaze.  He  was  entirely  calm  and  unmoved,  save  for 
astonishment  and  evident  concern  for  her. 

"  Nellie,  dear  Nellie,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Are 
you  insane  ?"  he  asked,  with  increasing  distress  and  per- 
plexity. 


AND     THOHN-BU8H     AFFECTIONATE.  349 

Still  she  did  not  answer.  She  only  looked  less  steadfastly 
at  him,  and  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Nellie,"  and  his  voice  lowered,  as  a  possible  suspicion 
crossed  his  mind,  "  did  you  ever  know  this  Mr.  Stalker  ?" 

"No." 

"  Then  please  tell  me  why  this  unimportant  item  of  news 
should  agitate  you  ?" 

He  had  thrown  his  arm  around  her  to  support  her,  she 
was  so  pale.  She  leaned  upon  him  and  burst  into  tears. 
"  Oh,  Perry,  I  thought — T  thought — " 

"  What  ?"  he  asked,  encouragingly. 

"  That  you  were  engaged  to  Aer,"  she  whispered. 

Perry  Seymour  could  hardly  believe  his  ears.  He  laughed 
and  he  scolded,  he  was  amused  and  provoked,  by  turns.  He 
drew  out  of  Nellie  all  the  circumstantial  details  which  had 
induced  her  belief.  He  explained  them,  one  by  one ;  and 
they  explained  some  things  to  himself  which  he  had  never 
understood. 


XXXV 

.an  tie 


"  For  scarce  my  life  with  fancy  played, 

Before  I  dreamed  that  pleasant  dream — 
Still  hither  thither  idly  swayed, 
Like  those  long  mosses  in  the  stream." 

ALFRED  TEXXTSOS. 


rPHE  student,  at  night,  solitary  in  his  room,  how  fondly 
•*•  and  forlornly  his  heart  yearns  for  home. — Not  the  wild, 
rollicking  college-boy !  He  has  his  pleasures,  exhilarating 
and  obliviating.  He  may  at  times  suffer  a  twinge  of  home- 
sickness :  but  it  is  only  a  fitful  mood.  Do  not  believe  the 
letters,  good  credulous  mothers  read  over  and  over  again. 
They  are  forgotten  as  soon  as  written.  He  is  happier  at 
college  than  at  home,  a  hundredfold.  He  will  pester  you 
to  the  extent  of  endurance  before  the  next  vacation  is  over, 
for  the  mere  want  of  something  to  do ;  and  you  will  be  glad, 
and  he,  too,  when  he  goes  back  to  college  again. — The  good 
boy,  who  goes  to  college,  or  the  theological  seminary,  to 
study  and  does  study  ;  who  spends  the  whole  day  and  even- 
ing too,  in  study,  save  a  demure  walk  by  way  of  exercise,  or 
a  sedate  visit  to  a  class-mate  by  way  of  keeping  up  acquaint- 
ance— look  in  upon  him  at  nights  and  behold  a  victim  of 
chronic  heart-home-disease.  The  evening  wears  away  while 
he  pores  over  his  lessons.  Perhaps  a  knock  at  the  door  has 


A     BLIGHT     OK     THE     ROSE-TREE.  351 

announced  a  fellow-boarder.  He  came  to  borrow  a  book,  and 
immediately  retired,  leaving  the  room  lonelier  for  bis  brief 
intrusion.  Or  lie  was  a  good  young  man  who  came  on  pur- 
pose to  have  some  profitable  conversation  on  the  subject  of 
personal  religion,  wbich  resulted  in  making  them  both  dis- 
satisfied, discouraged  and  uncomfortable.  The  good  young 
man  has  taken  his  leave.  The  task  is  finished.  The  solitary 
student  picks  up  the  wicks  of  his  oil  lamp,  to  make  it  bum 
brighter;  it  smokes,  and  he  picks  the  wicks  down  again. 
He  turns  round  to  the  stove,  gazes  through  the  smoky 
isinglass  on  the  melancholy  glow  of  anthracite  and  thinks 
of — HOME.  How  the  picture  starts  out  before  him  all  aglow 
in  the  light  of  fancy.  Mother,  father,  sisters,  brothers, 
chance  visitors — just  where  they  sit,  what  they  are  doing  and 
what  they  are  talking  about — what  a  tableau-vivant !  How 
bright  by  contrast  with  himself  and  his  own  surroundings ! 
Then  he  seizes  his  pen  and  writes  the  long-  letter,  which  it  is 
such  a  bother  to  rea  i  and  more  to  answer,  but  which  mother 
will  have  read  more  than  once  and  worries  about  till  it  is 
answered.  A  little  short  answer  it  gets,  signed,  "  In  the  very 
greatest  haste,  your  affectionate  sister."  But  the  solitary 
student  roads  it  over  and  over  till  he  knows  every  dash  and 
dot,  and  feels  so  sorry  that  dear  sister,  with  her  headache  and 
her  visitors  and  her  ir.antuamakers,  took  the  trouble  to 
write  to  him :  and  in  an  excess  of  magnanimity  sits  down 
and  begs  her  not  to  do  so  again. 

Thus  Perry  Seymour,  when  he  was  solitary  of  nights,  in 
college  or  seminary,  used '  to  sit  and  think  and  dream  and 
love.  And  when  he  had  thought  of  his  mother  in  her  little 
parlor,  taken  an  excursive  flight  up  stairs  to  Mr.  Sickles  in 
the  attic,  and  followed  Miss  Van  Home  from  garret  to  cellar 


352  A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE. 

in  her  search  after  work — and  had  no  sisters  to  think  about, 
and  no  brother  that  he  cared  to  think  long  about — what 
wonder  .that  he  thought  of  Nellie  Lee,  the  nearest  to  a  sister 
he  had  ever  known,  only  nearer  than  any  sister  could  be — 
what  wonder  if,  next  to  providing  for  his  mother's  comfort, 
Nellie  was  the  conspicuous  object  in  the  vistas  down  the 
future  which  used  to  open  before  him — what  wonder  if,  in 
the  long  letters  which  he  wrote,  there  was  a  great  deal  about 
Nellie — where  she  was  ?  and  how  she  was  ?  and  a  multitude 
of  questions  his  mother  could  riot  answer  and  which  were 
meant  simply  as  tender  sentiments,  not  to  be  answered  !  Or 
what  wonder  was  it,  that  Perry  was  glad  to  see  any  one  who, 
in  any  way,  was  connected  with  Nellie — if  it  were  only  Cyn- 
thia Stryker,  who  came  from  the  same  pretty  village  of 
Cedarville — or,  that  he  went  very  often  to  see  Cynthia,  just 
in  hopes  of  hearing  something  of  Nellie,  and  would  sit  for  a 
whole  evening,  to  get  the  information  he  did  not  always  like 
to  ask  for !  And  what  wonder,  we  might  add,  if  Cynthia 
should  regard  such  frequent  and  long  calls  as  evidence  of  her 
own  powers  of  attraction  ! 

Miss  Stryker,  happily  for  Perry's  modesty  was  fond  of 
talking  about  the  Lees.  She  had  long  budgets  of  news  con- 
cerning them,  after  every  return  from  Cedarville,  and  seldom 
received  a  letter  from  Bedminster  Parsonage,  that  did  not 
contain  some  allusion  to  Truro  and  its  family. 

But  there  was  poison  in  this  gossip,  where  Perry  sought 
honey.  The  Strykers  insinuated  the  first  suspicion  into  his 
mind  that  there  might  be  a  bar  to  the  intimacy  with  Nellie 
which  had  been  allowed  in  childhood.  They  described  the 
Lees  as  proud  and  haughty,  gay,  worldly  and  irreligious  an<i 
fond  of  money.  No  one  could  get  into  their  good  graces 


A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE.  353 

but  with  a  golden  wedge.  Nobody  in  the  village  was  good 
enough  for  them,  but  George  Hughes  and  his  wife,  and  they 
were  tolerated  only  since  they  had  become  rich.  Nellie 
they  conceded,  was  a  good  child.  But  she  was  tainted  with 
pride,  and  what  would  she  not  become  under  the  influences 
which  must  inevitably  affect  her?  With  her  beauty  and 
wealth,  she  would  make  a  great  show  in  the  world, 
be  drawn  into  the  vortex  of  fashionable  life,  marry  some 
rich  man,  and,  like  the  rest  of  them,  give  herself  up  to 
worldliness. 

These  surmises  Perry  did  not  estimate  above  their  value  ; 
still  there  was  enough  ground  for  them  to  make  him  uncom- 
fortable. There  was  cause  for  fear  that  Nellie  never  could 
be  his ;  that  he  must  admire  her,  if  at  all,  at  a  distance.  He 
now  first  perceived  that  poverty  is  a  dark,  dark  shadow  on 
some  features  of  the  social  economy,  if  wealth  is  a  great  cor- 
rupter ;  and  could  appreciate  the  wit  of  the  clown,  "  No, 
madam,  'tis  not  so  well  that  I  am  poor,  though  many  of  the 
rich  are  damned." 

Money,  or  the  want  of  it,  Avas  the  source  of  more  direct 
troubles  than  this  imaginary  one,  to  Perry  Seymour.  His 
mother,  after  years  of  struggling,  had  managed  to  pay  off 
the  debt  she  had  incurred  when  she  first  took  and  furnished 
a  large  boarding-house,  and  had  accumulated  her  first  thous- 
and dollars  in  the  bank,  when  Albert's  folly  ;n;d  extravagance 
precipitated  her  into  new  embarrassments.  He  had  got  hold 
of  a  law  case,  which,  could  he  only  go  to  England  and  insti- 
tute certain  searches  in  the  records  cf  law  courts  and  old 
church  and  town  registers,  would  be,  according  to  his  repre- 
sentation to  his  credulous  mother,  the  affluent  source  of  his 
fortune.  He  must  pay  his  own  expanses,  for  his  clients  were 


854  A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE. 

poor.  It  was  lucky  for  him  that  they  were,  and  could  not 
employ  some  great  and  distinguished  lawyer.  He  would, 
however,  remunerate  himself  handsomely  out  of  the  immense 
estate  which  was  to  fall  into  his  hands.  Should  he  not  suc- 
ceed, which  was  impossible — but  should  he  not^  he  would 
immediately  return,  greatly  improved  in  the  knowledge  of 
the  world,  with  the  distinguished  reputation  of  having  been 
sent  to  England  on  most  important  business,  and  with  the 
loss  of  a  few  hundreds  only  to  his  mother,  soon  to  be  made 
up  by  the  start  in  life  which  this  affair  would  give  to  her 
son.  So  he  reasoned,  and  his  mother  fondly  believed. 

Albert  went.  The  thousand  dollars  was  soon  expended. 
Things  were  in  train,  he  wrote ;  to  save  what  was  already  in- 
vested he  must  have  more  money.  Another  and  another 
thousand  dollars  went  to  England,  borrowed  money,  to  be 
paid  with  interest.  In  the  mean  while,  Albert  diversified  his 
wearying  labors  by  a  pleasure-excursion  through  France, 
Italy,  Switzerland  and  Germany ;  and,  on  his  return  to  Eng- 
land, found  matters  in  a  delightful  state  of  forwardness,  and 
only  needing  another  thousand  dollars  to  bring  them  to  a 
successful  issue.  This  new  demand  met  a  prompt  refusal, 
and  peremptory  orders  to  come  home  ;  which  extorted  from 
the  young  jurist  the  confession  that  he  was  in  the  hands  of 
creditors,  and  could  not  get  away  short  of  a  thousand  dol- 
lars. The  third  thousand  was  sent,  and  Albert  Seymour, 
Esq.,  returned  to  America  as  a  distinguished  lawyer  who  had 
made  the  tour  of  Europe,  and  seen  the  world. 

These  facts  Perry  suspected,  but  did  not  ascertain  fully 
till  about  the  time  that  Albert  was  expected  home.  His 
resolution  was  at  once  taken  :  he  would  seek  by  teaching  the 
means  of  aiding  himself  and  relieving  his  mother.  The  Rev. 


A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREK.  365 

James  Stryker  offered  him  a  situation  in  the  Cedarville 
school.  It  was  accepted  conditionally.  Perry  agreed  to 
escort  Miss  Cynthia  to  Cedarville,  and  give  his  final  answer. 
It  was  ascertained  about  the  same  time  that  Mrs.  Stryker 
needed  Cynthia's  assistance  in  the  care  and  management  of 
so  hn'ge  a  family  ;  and  Cynthia  consented  to  become  a  per- 
manent member  of  her  brother's  household. 

Affairs  were  in  this  posture,  when  Perry  received  a  char- 
acteristic letter  from  Mr.  Sickles,  entreating1  and  commanding 
him  to  embark  immediately  for  England,  on  most  pressing 
business,  in  which  Mr.  Sickles'  personal  welfare  was  deeply 
concerned,  and  insisting  that  he  must  remunerate  himself  for 
the  trouble  by  spending  a  term  at  Edinburgh  and  a  year  in 
Germany.  Perry  suspected  that  the  "  pressing  business"  was 
got  up  for  his  special  benefit,  and  vainly  endeavored  to  de- 
cline the  responsibility.  Mr.  Sickles'  pertinacity  would  not 
be  refused.  Perry  had  to  go  ;  and  he  accompanied  Miss 
Cynthia  to  Cedarville  to  announce  the  fact. 

Perry's  heart  beat  when  the  stage  came  in  sight  of  Truro. 
Whfit  a  splendid  place  it  was  !  What  a  baronial  aspect  the 
fine  old  mansion  had,  in  the  far  distance,  resting  on  the  slop- 
ing hill-side  behind  its  extensive  park  !  What  an  air  of  aris- 
tocracy hung  around  it !  Perry  could  measure  the  altitude 
of  such  things  now  ;  airl  he  wondered  at  the  presumptive 
hopes  which  he  had  once  cherished. 

His  eye  was  on  the  gate  that  opened  into  the  main  avenue, 
long  before  they  reached  it.  He  saw  a  gentleman  on  horse- 
back dash  up  to  it,  an:!,  without  dismounting,  stoop  down, 
open  and  shut  it,  and  disappear.  A  moment  after  old  Caesar 
came  in  sight.  Then  Nellie  came  and  turned  her  horse 
under  the  green  boughs,  and  stood  waiting  for  the  stage. 


856  A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE. 

How  he  wondered  if  it  were  Nellie,  before  near  enough  to  be 
sure  !  How  his  heart  bounded  when  he  knew  it  was  she  ! 
And  what  a  vision  of  loveliness — a  vision  only,  as  she  must 
ever  be  to  him — so  gloriously  beautiful,  the  sun-light  danc- 
ing on  her  curls,  and  a  holier  light  joyfully  beaming  from 
her  face  ! 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  till  they  reached  Bedminster  Par- 
sonage. Perry  was  in  a  dream.  Cynthia  was  busy  bowing 
her  hatful  of  ribbons  at  every  house  and  every  person. 

"  There  are  brother  and  sister  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Cynthia. 
They  stood  at  the  gate,  ready  with  a  double  welcome. 

Mr.  Seymour,  hardly  yet  awakened,  assisted  Miss  Cynthia 
to  alight,  and  was  about  to  resume  his  seat  in  the  stage. 
His  purpose  was  to  leave  his  trunk  at  the  tavern,  and  make 
his  own  way  back  to  Truro.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stryker 
would  not  hear  of  it.  He  was,  they  hoped,  to  become  a 
member  of  their  family,  and  must,  by  all  means,  stay  with 
them  now,  especially  as  matters  of  importance  were  to  be 
talked  over.  He  was  helpless.  Had  lie  been  sure  of  a  wel- 
come at  Truro,  he  would  have  resisted.  But  the  poison  of 
suspicion  had  infected  his  mind.  He  doubted  whether  a 
poor  candidate  for  the  ministry,  son  of  a  boarding-house 
keeper,  would  be  a  welcome  guest  at  Truro. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  and  Miss  Stryker  and  Mr.  Seymour  sat  down 
almost  immediately  to  tea.  The  forty  boys  had  had  theirs 
an  hour  before. 

"  We  saw  Helen  Lee,"  remarked  Miss  Cynthia. 

"  On  horseback,"  quickly  responded  Mrs.  Stryker,  "  and  a 
gentleman  with  her.  She  passed  here  just  before  you  came. 
I  saw  her  dodge  round  the  poplars  by  the  church,  and  won- 
dered what  she  was  after.  Directly  Mr.  Murray  came  riding 


A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE.  357 

by,  and  passed  right  on  toward  Traro,  without  seeing  her. 
I  guess  she  was  sorry,  if  she  did  want  to  trick  him.  Our 
cook's  sister  is  laundress  at  Tiuro,  and  if  what  she  says  is 
true,  she  's  flirting  with  that  Mr.  Murray." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Murray  ?"  asked  Cynthia. 

"  Mr.  Langdon  Murray.  They  say  he 's  immensely  rich. 
He  's  very  good-looking  and,  Mr.  Stryker  says,  intelligent." 

"  Has  he  been  here  long  ?" 

"  Yes,  all  summer.  Our  cook  says  her  sister  says  he 's 
desperately  in  love." 

"  Does  she  like  him  ?" 

"  Oh  !  she  's  young,  and  likes  attention.  But  if  she  don't 
fancy  Jhim,  she  ought  to,  for  they  walk  together  and  ride 
together  enough." 

Perry's  heart  sunk.  He  dreaded  meeting  Nellie ;  but  he 
must,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  Possibly  Mr.  Lee  and  his 
family  had  not  lost  their  interest  in  him,  and,  in  that  case, 
they  might  be  offended  by  any  lack  of  attention.  So,  as 
soon  as  tea  was  despatched,  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went  to 
Truro,  not,  as  it  proved,  to  return  to  the  parsonage  that 
night. 

The  first  glance  at  Nellie,  the  first  words  she  spoke,  so 
simple,  frank,  hearty,  proved  that  she  was  not  spoiled  yet, 
whatever  might  happen.  And  the  forget-me-nots  seemed  an 
assurance  that  he  was  remembered.  But  how  ?  with  friendly 
interest,  with  sisterly  Christian  affection  ?  or — ah !  Mr. 
Langdon  Murray !  how  captivating  he  was,  and  Perry  saw 
with  his  own  eyes  that  Mr.  Murray  monopolized  Nellie  all 
<he  evening. 

The  next  morning  Perry  hastened  to  the  parsonage  to  in- 
form Mr.  Strvker  of  his  decision.  It  was  due  to  Mr.  Strvkf  r 


358  A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     HOSE-TREE. 

to  do  this  as  soon  as  possible.  Miss  Cynthia  met  him  at  the 
door,  and  showed  him  into  the  parlor.  She  would  tell  her 
brother.  Directly  she  came  back.  Her  brother  was  en- 
gaged just  then — he  would  come  in  half  an  hour.  The  half 
hour  passed,  and  another  one.  Miss  Cynthia  had  brought 
some  new  music  with  her ;  she  asked  Mr.  Seymour's  assist- 
ance in  reading  it ;  her  musical  accomplishments  were  not 
great,  his  were.  For  an  hour  he  stood  bending  over  the 
piano,  with  his  usual  patience  and  good-nature,  relieved  only 
for  a  few  minutes  by  Kitty  White's  brief  call.  Wearied,  at 
last,  he  suggested  a  walk  in  the  garden,  and  after  prom- 
enading from  the  house  to  the  gate,  and  the  gate  to  the 
house,  for  another  half  hour,  Mr.  Stryker  made  his  appear- 
ance. 

What  Mr.  Seymour  had  to  say  to  Mr.  Stryker  was  soon 
said.  But  Mr.  Stryker  had  so  much  to  say  on  other  subjects, 
and  Mrs.  Stryker  came  in,  nnd  was  so  bent  on  being  agreeable, 
that  Perry  could  not  got  away.  -  At  last,  as  a  sort  of  com- 
promise, and  to  mollify  the  severity  of  their  regrets  in  losing 
the  hopes  of  his  permanent  residence  under  their  roof,  he 
consented,  at  their  urgent  invitation,  to  return  to  tea.  Good- 
nature, what  unnecessary  sacrifices  it  makes  ! 

Perry  walked  back  lo  Truro  as  fast  as  he  could,  that  he 
might  not  lose  another  of  the  precious  minutes,  but  arrived 
there  to  find  the  bird  flown.  Miss  Lee  had  gone  with  her 
brothej  and  the  children  on  some  excursion.  No  one  knew 
where.  They  could  only  tell  him  the  direction  they  had 
taken  on  leaving  the  house. 

For  two  hours  he  walked  the  avenue  through  which  they 
had  passed.  At  last,  like  a  party  of  skirmishers  at  full  speed, 
Mr.  Norton  Lee  and  the  two  children  flew  past  him  toward  the 


A     BLIGHT     ON     THE     ROSE-TREE.  359 

house.  At  a  more  deliberate  pace,  some  distance  behind, 
followed  Miss  Brown. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Helen  ?"  he  asked. 

"  She  and  Mr.  Murray  are  coming,"  was  the  answer. 

There  was  one  more  in  the  party  than  he  had  been  told 
of,  it  appeared.  He  retraced  his  steps  to  a  more  secluded 
path,  and  there,  full  half  an  hour  afterward,  saw  Nellie  and 
Mr.  Murray  saunter  past.  She  was  leaning  on  his  arm, 
looking  up  into  his  face,  listening  with  eager  interest.  Her 
rich,  mellow,  joyous  laugh  floated  back  to  him. 

Sick,  sad,  forlorn  heart!  His  love  is  hopeless.  But  it 
was  right.  Mr.  Murray  was  a  suitable  match  for  Helen  Lee, 
if — and  this  was  a  painful  doubt — he  had  the  Christian's 
portion  as  well  as  this  world's.  Perry  wondered  at  himself 
for  ever  dreaming,  in  the  wildest  reveries  of  fancy,  that 
Helen  Lee,  so  beautiful,  and  with  such  expectations,  would 
smile  upon  a  poor  minister,  or,  worse  yet,  a  poor  divinity- 
student. 

The  next,  morning  a  happiness  was  in  store  for  Perry  that 
he  little  expected.  That  candle-light  breakfast,  that  walk 
down  the  avenue,  those  precious  words  by  the  stile  !  The 
old  childish  relations  were  renewed — the  old  feelings  came 
back.  For  that  little  while  Nellie  seemed  not  merely  with- 
in his  reach,  but  actually  his ;  just  as  she  used  to,  years  ago. 

But  he  was  doomed  to  have  his  hopes  again  dashed.  The 
last  look  at  Xellie,  smiling,  so  happily  and  tenderly,  up  at 
Mr.  Murray,  and  he  bending  down  over  her — Perry  never 
could  forget  that.  No,  he  must  learn  to  love  her  as  a 
brother,  and  be  thankful  for  her  sisterly  regard.  To  stand 
between  two  beings  who  seemed  designed  for  each  other — 
he  would  not,  if  he  could — at  least  so  he  thought. 


XXXVI. 

0n  the 


"  Masters,  I  am  to  discourse  wonders  ;  but  ask  me  not  what;  for  if  I  tell  you, 
I  am  no  true  Athenian.  I  will  tell  you  every  thing,  right  as  it  fell  out."—  SHAKE- 
SPEARE. 

the  second  night  after  Cynthia  Striker's  return  to 
Cedarville,  the  second  night  that  Mr.  Seymour  took  tea 
and  Mr.  Graves  called  at  Bedminster  Parsonage,  on  that 
night,  some  half-dozen  boys  carried  on  a  whispered  colloquy, 
in  a  corner  of  the  long  and  crowded  dormitory  over  the 
school-room.  Why  they  were  not  in  bed,  as  were  the  other 
boys  and  the  tutor  who  snored  at  the  other  end  of  the  room 
—  why  they  chose  to  stand  with  bare  feet  on  the  bare  floor, 
while  the  September  winds  rattled  the  windows  —  why  they 
ran  the  risk,  for  nothing,  of  the  severe  punishment  which  de- 
tection would  insure  —  may  be  answered  by  those  who  can 
give  rational  reasons  for  a  tithe  of  the  capers  cut  by  boys  in 
general.  Jack  Smith  called  to  Bill  Strong  in  a  loud  whisper, 
to  know  if  the  tutor  were  asleep,  for  Bill  slept  next  to  that 
official.  Bill  answered,  v'Yes."  Jack  cried  out,  "Crackie, 
I'm  glad  !"  and  jumped  out  of  bed.  Bill  Strong,  by  way  of 
illustrating  the  power  of  example,  cried  "Crackie!"  and 
jumped  out  of  bed  too.  Little  Timothy  Twinkle  and  three 
others  cried  u  Crackie,"  in  swift  succession,  and  jumped  out 


MILDEW     ON     THE     THORN-BUSH.  861 

of  their  warm  beds  to  the  cold  floor.     There  they  stood,  six 
bipeds,  shivering  in  the  moonlight — a  group  for  Hogarth. 

"  I  say  boys,  are  n't  you  hungry  ?"  cried  little  Timothy 
Twinkle. 

"  What  if  we  were,"  growled  Bill  Strong,  "  we  could  n't 
get  any  thing  to  eat." 

"  I  saw  the  old  woman,"  by  which  respectful  title  Mrs. 
Stryker  was  intended,  "making  pumpkin-pies  to-day,"  re- 
sponded Timothy  Twinkle. 

"  Wish  I  had  one,"  said  Bill  Strong,  "  the  old  woman  '11 
keep  them  till  they  're  moldy,  before  we  get  any." 

"Wonder  if  we  couldn't  get  into  the  pantry  and  help 
ourselves,"  suggested  Jack  Smith. 

"  I  '11  try,  if  the  rest  dare  to,"  volunteered  one,  known  to 
be  not  over  brave. 

"  You  !  I  'd  like  to  see  you  try  any  thing  the  rest  did  n't 
dare  to  !"  tauntingly  said  Bill  Strong. 

"  I  know  where  the  key  is,"  put  in  Timothy  Twinkle,  who 
was  too  much  captivated  by  pumpkin-pies  to  permit  the  sub- 
ject to  be  lost  sight  of. 

"  Where  ?"  all  asked  in  a  breath. 

"  In  Mr.  Stryker's  room,  hanging  on  a  brass  hook,  by  the 
window,  on  the  left  side  of  the  dressing-table,"  he  answered, 
with  great  particularity. 

"  Much  good  it  '11  do  us,  hanging  there,"  was  the  dissatis- 
fied rejoinder  of  Bill  Strong. 

But  Jack  Smith  was  bent  upon  doing  something,  that 
night ;  and  having  carefully  ascertained  of  little  Timothy 
Twinkle  that  the  key  was  hung  on  that  particular  hook 
every  night,  when  he,  Timothy,  was  sick  and  was  taken  into 
Mrs.  Stryker's  room  to  be  nursed,  Jack  announced  his  deter- 

16 


302  MILDEW     ON     THE     THORN-BUSH. 

urination  to  invade  that  apartment  and  take  an  impression  in 
wax  of  the  pantry  key.  All  were  struck  with  consternation 
at  the  grandeur  of  his  temerity,  which  only  strengthened 
Jack's  resolution.  So,  slipping  on  his  pant?,  he  departed  on 
his  enterprise,  while  the  other  boys  crept  softly  back  to  bed, 
trembling  lest  they  might  be  implicated  in  a  scheme  so  ne- 
farious. 

Cautiously  Jack  Smith  glided  in  and  out  between  the  beds 
and  through  the  passage,  into  what  used  to  be  the  up-staira 
'parlor,  but  which  now  was  another  dormitory.  Here  all  were 
asleep.  Jack  found  his  way  into  the  main  hall,  on  the  other 
side  of  which  Mr.  Stryker  slept,  always  with  the  <!cor  open 
that  he  might  hear  any  noise  in  -the  boys'  cVparrment. 
Now,  however,  the  door  was  nearly  close  I,  and  a  stream  of 
light  through  the  crevice  indicated  that  the  occupants  of  the 
room  were  not  abed.  A  large  cloak  hung  in  (ho  hall  close 
by  the  door ;  Jack  crept  behind  it,  and  wrapped  himself  in 
its  folds.  The  warmth  was  no  less  agreeable  than  the  sense 
of  security,  should  Mr.  Stryker  take  it  into  his  head  to  make 
a  tour  of  observation  through  the  entry.  Jack  found  enter- 
tainment for  his  ears. 

"  Looks  a  little  particular  in  Mr.  Graves,  don't  it  1"  said 
Mrs.  Stryker's  voice. 

"  What  ?"  asked  her  husband. 
•     "  Coming  two  evenings  in  succession,"  she  answered. 

"  What  of  that  ?"  he  asked,  again. 

"  Why  Cynthia  is  home ;  is  n't  she  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Mr.  Stryker,  with  a  puzzled  tone,  that 
*aid  he  did  not  see  what  that  had  to  do  with  it. 

"  Yes !"  repeated  Mrs.  Stryker,  imitating  his  tone.  "  How 
stupid,  you  are  !  Don't  yon  know  how  often  he 's  been  here 


MILDEW     ON     THE     THORN-BUSH.  363 

inquiring  about  Cynthia  ?  He 's  asked  me  twenty  times,  if 
once,  when  she  was  to  come  :  and  now,  she  has  come,  he's 
been  already  twice  to  see  her." 

Mr.  Stryker  did  not  reply  immediately.  If  Mrs.  Stryker 
thought  he  still  did  not  understand,  she  was  mistaken.  He 
was  only  thinking  the  matter  over  and  looking  at  it  in  all  its 
aspects.  At  length  he  spoke. 

"  Mr.  Graves  would  be  a  very  good  match." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Stryker,  "  suppose  nothing  comes  of 
this  young  Seymour." 

"  Mr.  Graves  is  doing  a  good  business,"  resumed  Mr.  Stry- 
ker. "  He  could  afford  to  be  married  now,  right  off." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Stryker,  deliberatingly.  "  Seymour  would 
have  to  wait  a  good  while.  Then  that  old  gentleman — what 's 
his  name  ?" 

"Whose?" 

"  The  old  man  who  is  Seymour's  friend  ?" 

"  Sickles." 

"  He 's  no  relation  of  Seymour's,  you  think  ?" 

"  No :  I  believe  not :  but  thinks  the  world  of  him." 

"  If  he  's  no  relation,  he 's  less  likely  to  leave  him  any 
thing." 

"True." 

"  Then,  a  minister 's  not  much  of  a  catch,  unless  he  has 
something  handsome,"  added  Mrs.  Stryker. 

Mr.  Stryker  moved  about  the  room  with  sudden  energy. 
When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  a  sort  of  soliloquy,  as  if  he 
ignored  his  wife's  presence. 

u  A  professional  man — fine  talents — command  high  position 
— wife  very  respectable — occupy  a  field  of  extensive  useful- 
ness. Pleasant  for  me,  too — ministerial  intercourse." 


364  MILDEW     ON     THE    THOKN-BD8H. 

"  Hem !"  and  Mrs.  Stryker  threw  the  interjection  over 
her  shoulder,  at  her  husband,  as  she  stood  before  the  glass, 
arranging  her  hair.  "  I  tell  you  what,  he  's  proud  and  looks 
high.  I  should  n't  wonder,  one  bit,  if  he  thinks  more  of 
Helen  Lee  than  he  need  to." 

"  What  put  that  into  your  head  ?"  asked  Mr.  Stryker, 
hastily. 

"  See  if  my  words  don't  come  true.  He  '11  get  Helen  Lee, 
if  he  can." 

"  But  why  do  you  think  so  ?" 

"  Think  so  ! — I  know  so,"  asseverated  Mrs.  Stryker,  with 
feminine  determination  to  be  right.  "  Was  n't  he  more  inter- 
rested  in. hearing  about  her,  than  he  might  have  been?  Did 
n't  he  show  his  feelings  in  his  down-cast  face,  when  lie  heard 
about  Mr.  Murray  ?  Was  n't  he  in  a  dreadful  hurry  to  get 
off  to  Truro  ?  Mark  my  words  now  :  he  's  in  love  this  minute 
with  Helen  Lee,  or  I  'm  mistaken  for  the  first  time — about 
such  a  thing — in  my  life  !" 

"  But  how  do  you  account  for  his  attentions  to  Cynthia  ?" 
asked  Mr.  Stryker. 

"  Guess  Cynthia's  vanity  made  more  of  them  than  they  're 
worth.  Cynthia 's  not  used  to  beaux." 

"  But  he  saw  her  home  from  church  nearly  every  Sunday 
night  ?" 

"  They  sat  in  the  same  pew  and  went  the  same  way.  He 
could  n't  help  it." 

"  But  he  could  help  going  to  see  her  at  other  times." 

"  That  does  look,  as  far  as  it  goes,  as  if  he  liked  her.  Per- 
haps, he  was  lonesome  and  had  nowhere  else  to  go.  Per- 
haps, he  went  to  hear  about  Cedarville  and  Truro  folks. 
But  whatever  he  went  for,  't  was  n't  for  love  of  Cynthia- 


MILDEW     ON     THE     THORN-BUSH.  865 

Would  n't  catch  a  man  in  love  going  off  so  early  as  he  did, 
the  other  evening,  the  first  chance  he  got ;  and  hardly  say- 
ing more  than  good-by  when  he  was  bound  for  Europe,  to 
stay  years  maybe,  and  he  could  n't  help  seeing  how  down  in 
the  mouth  Cynthia  was  about  it." 

Mr.  Stryker  had  nothing  more  to  say.  Mrs.  Stryker,  too, 
maintained  silence,  till  she  stood,  with  the  extinguisher  in 
hand,  ready  to  put  out  the  light.  Then  she  spoke  her  last 
words. 

"  There  's  no  mistake  about  Graves.  He 's  in  earnest.  A 
practical  man  like  him  don't  ask  questions  and  come  twice 
for  nothing.  He  's  a  good  match.  Pious  too  !"  The  candle 
was  extinguished  by  way  of  emphasis. 

Mrs.  Stryker  drew  the  curtains  from  both  windows  and  let 
in  the  streaming  moonlight,  opened  the  door  wide,  and  betook 
herself  to  rest. 

Jack  Smith,  in  the  entry,  holding  his  breath,  standing  till 
his  legs  ached  and  his  bare  feet  were  nearly  frozen,  waited 
and  waited,  it  seemed  to  him,  half-an-hour,  it  was  not  more 
than  ten  minutes.  Then,  sure  they  must  be  asleep,  he  ven- 
tured into  the  room.  It  was  almost  as  light  as  day.  He 
glanced  at  the  bed.  Frightened  at  the  proximity  of  danger, 
he  retreated  to  the  shadow  of  the  window  curtain.  As  he 
stood  there,  gazing,  a  mob  of  red  hair  was  slowly  elevated — 
his  heart  throbbed,  he  could  hardly  breathe  for  terror — but 
the  sharp  featured  face,  now  revealed  in  the  moonlight,  was 
turned  away  from  the  corner  where  he  stood. 

"  Mrs.  Stryker  ?" 

A  heap  of  white  ruffling  appeared  and  turned  toward  the 
red  hair. 

"  What  ?"  v 


366  MILDEW     ON     THE     THORN-BUSH. 

"  Are  you  asleep  ?" 

"  No,"  impatiently. 

"  I  have  been  thinking — " 

"  Well  ?"  with  interest. 

"  It 's  a  pity  Cynthia's  young  affections  should  be  crushed." 

"  Well  ?"  encouragingly. 

';  Suppose  you  speak  to  her.  You  can  do  it  better  than  I. 
Tell  her  what  you  think  about  Perry  Seymour,  and  advise 
her  about  Mr.  Graves." 

"Perhaps  I'd  best." 

The  red-head  and  the  white  ruffling  sank  down  again. 
Silence,  broken  only  by  the  ticking  watch  and  Jack  Smith's 
beating  heart,  ensued.  Five,  ten,  fifteen,  thirty  minutes 
passed,  and  Jack  did  not  dare  move  from  his  concealment. 
At  last  indubitable  signs  of  sleep  reassured  him.  Carefully 
and  stealthily  he  moved  to  the  other  side  of  the  window. 
The  brass-hook  was  there,  but  no  key  was  on  it.  The  shock 
of  disappointment  almost  made  Jack  ejaculate  aloud,  what 
he  prudently  did  inaudibly.  He  took  a  general  survey  of 
the  room  ;  no  key  was  to  be  seen.  Had  he  gone  to  the 
pantry  he  would  have  found  it  in  the  door,  for  Mrs.  Stryker, 
in  her  anxiety  for  Cynthia,  had  forgotten  her  care  for  pies 
and  preserves. 

Jack  Smith,  with  drooping  spirits,  stole  back  to  the  large 
dormitory.  The  boys  were  all  asleep.  Even  his  friends, 
who  had  watched  anxiously  for  his  return,  had  long  since 
dropped  off.  Little  Timothy  Twinkle  forgot  pumpkin  pies, 
or  dreamed  of  them.  The  air  was  close.  The  boys  tossing 
about  restlessly.  There  was  a  queer  hubbub  of  sleeping 
noises.  Some  were  laughing,  some  quarreling,  some  repeat- 
ing their  lessons,  some  snoring.  And  Jack  Smith,  cold  and 


MILDEW     OX     THE     X  HORN-BUSH.  367 

spiritless,  got  into  bed,  and  wished  he  had  not  got  out 
of  it. 

The  next  morning  Jack  electrified  the  boys,  who  were  in 
his  confidence,  with  the  history  of  the  night's  adventure. 
He  made  the  most  of  the  perils  he  had  conquered,  and  re- 
peated the  charming  conversation  he  had  overheard,  with 
such  embellishments  as  his  fancy  suggested. 

Lynx-eyed  boys  watched  for  visitors.  Mr.  Graves  never 
passed  the  threshhold  unobserved  ;  the  number  and  length  of 
his  calls  were  carefully  noted  and 'commented  upon.  Alas! 
they  were  few  and  short.  The  united  blandishments  of  the 
family  failed  to  rekindle  the  brief  passion  which ,  had  never 
glowed  without  artificial  aid.  " 

Miss  Cynthia  grew  sharp  in  features  and  temper.  The 
boys  often  smarted  from  her  irritability.  But  the  boys  took 
vengeance..  Scraps  of  doggerel,  and  poor  caricatures  in  pen 
and  ink  sketches,  portraying  the  misadventures  of  disap- 
pointed affection,  were  placed  in  Miss  Cynthia's  way,  and  de- 
stroyed by  Miss  Cynthia's  hands.  The  young  lady  grew 
more  unamiable — the  boys  more  vindictive.  Could  they 
have  seen  the  bitter  tears  she  shed  over  their  poor  insults, 
they  would  have  pitied  her,  if  boys  can  pity.  As  it  was, 
she  became  increasingly  an  object  of  aversion.  There  was 
delight  in  tormenting  her. 

Emboldened  by  success,  and  galled  by  some  new  act  of 
tyranny  on  her  part,  they  concocted  a  pastoral  poem,  in 
which  they  ventured,  from  mere  hints  and  innuendoes,  to  such 
plain  allusions  as  could  not  be  misunderstood.  The  miser- 
able attempt  to  ridicule  and  lacerate  her  feelings  was  suc- 
cessful. Cynthia's  endurance  was  exhausted.  The  witless 
missile  was  carried  to  her  brother,  with  the  demand  that  the 


368  MILDEW     ON    THE     THOKN-BUSH. 

author  be  ferreted  out  and  visited  with  condign  punishment. 
Dark  and  lowering  was  the  sky  over  Cedarville  school  for 
many  a  day  af'envard.  Mr.  Stryker  talked,  mysteriously  to 
all  but  the  initiated,  of  insults  to  a  member  of  his  family. 
As  the  perpct-  ators  could  not  be  discovered,  the  forty  boys 
suffered  the  pent-up  wrath  of  the  family.  Tasks  were  in 
creased.  Meals  abridged.  The  slightest  faults  received  the 
severest  reprimands ;  greater  ones  incurred  the  extreme 
penalties  of  laws  never  lenient.  And  the  boys,  under  this 
merciless  discipline,  rued  the  day  when  they  had  forgotten 
mercy. 

In  the  mean  while  the  family  wondered  how  the  unfor- 
tunate facts  in  the  domestic  history  had  transpired.  The 
innocent  servant-woman  was  suspected  and  dismissed.  But 
if  the  boys  knew  it,  others  must.  Miss  Cynthia  imagined 
herself  an  object  of  universal  derision.  She  would  stay  no 
longer  in  Cedarville.  She  would  go,  if  only  to  be  rid  of  the 
pestering  boys.  She  went.  The  boys  were  glad.  Mr. 
Graves,  who  always  suffered  a  twinge  of  conscience  in  her 
behalf,  as  if  he  had  excited  expectations  he  could  not  fulfill, 
was  glad.  Helen  Lee  was  glad. 


XXXVII. 

aub 

anil  Jtoringe. 

"O  teach  me  stoutly  to  deny 
Myself  that  I  may  be  no  longer  L" 

FRANCIS  QTARLES. 

PERRY  SEYMOUR,  when  he  was  invited  to  supply  the 
•*-  Cedarville  pulpit  during  the  summer,  was  obliged  to 
ask  some  searching  questions  of  his  heart  and  conscience. 
The  day  spent  iujiis  room  at  Truro  was  a  busy  one. 

He  had  no  difficulty  in  deciding  his  preference  for  Cedar- 
ville  to  all  other  places  on  earth.  Every  spot  about  it  was 
endeared  to  him.  The  happiest  hours  of  a  boyhood,  mostly 
spent  in  a  crowded  city,  were  enjoyed  at  Truro.  He  liked 
the  people,  their  ways  and  notions.  He  believed  he  might 
be  as  useful  among  them  as  any  where. 

The  embarrassing  question  was,  could  he  trust  his  heart 
so  near  Helen  Lee  ?  Might  he  not  be  led,  by  tempting  op- 
portunity, to  try  to  win  to  himself  what  he  believed  of 
right  belonged  to  him,  but  was,  perhaps,  plighted  to  another 
— and  what  honorable  sentiments  toward  the  family,  who 
would  not  wish  Nellie  to  marry  an  humble  country  clergy- 
man, should  forbid  him  to  win — Nellie's  love.  He  endeavor- 
ed candidly  and  closely  to  scan  his  feelings ;  and  he  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  could  trust  himself. 
16* 


3*70  THE     ROSE-TREE     AND     CELIBACY: 

Long  had  he  struggled  against  his  love  and  taught  him- 
self to  regard  the  ^expectations  he  had  once  indulged  as 
chimerical.  He  had  tutored  himself  into  the  conviction 
that  her  welfare  forbade  what  he  might  hope  for.  He  had 
studied  to  think  of  her  and  feel  toward  her  as  belonging  to 
another.  While  in  Europe,  he  had  heard  through  Albert, 
that,  without  doubt,  she  was  or  would  be  engaged  to  Lang- 
don  Murray.  He  came  to  Truro  and  found  that  gentleman 
there,  the  privileged  friend  of  the  family.  His  title  to  re- 
spect and  his  eligibility,  Perry  freely  conceded,  and  thought 
that  he  rejoiced  in  Nellie's  prospect  of  happiness.  He  felt 
at  least  no  envy,  no  jealousy.  He  conquered  himself  into  a 
cheerful  acquiescence.  He  had  never  ventured  all  his  hap- 
piness on  the  love  of  Helen  Lee  and  could  not  be  deprived 
of  it  by  the  loss  of  her.  His  heart  was  fixed  in  Heaven.  His 
delight  was  in  the  service  of  the  Saviour. 

He  was  sure,  therefore,  that  he  could  live  near  her  without 
marring  his  own  peace  or  hers ;  and  love  her  dearly  still  as 
a  friend  and  brother.  In  a  year,  or  less,  probably,  she  would 
be  married.  And  then  it  would  be  always  pleasant  to  look 
upon  her  old  home  and  sometimes  to  see  her  herself.  He 
could,  at  least,  make  proof  of  himself,  by  this  three  month's 
trial,  and  then,  should  he  be  invited  to  become  the  pastor 
of  Cedarville  church,  he  would  be  prepared  to  decide. 

The  matter,  now,  was  virtually  settled,  so  far  as  his  own 
judgment  was  concerned.  It  remained  only,  for  form  and 
love's  sake,  to  consult  others.  Three  letters,  asking  ad- 
vice, were  quickly  written,  folded,  sealed  and  directed  ;  one 
to  his  mother,  one  to  Mr.  Sickles,  and  one  to  a  father  in  the 
ministry. 

Perry  felt  in  the  humor  of  writing  that  day,  had  nothing 


THB     THORN-BUSH     AND     MARK  I  AGE.  371 

else  to  do,  and  concluded  to  answer  a  peculiar  letter,  received 
a  day  or  two  before,  which  needed  more  than  ordinary  care 
in  the  answering.  He  took  it  out  of  his  pocket,  read  it  over, 
smiled  as  he  read  it,  laid  it  down  and  sat  for  a  long  while  in 
meditation.  Then  he  took  up  his  pen  and  wrote,  with  great 
deliberation,  and  elaboration  too,  often  pausing  to  consider  a 
word  or  sentence,  till  no  less  than  five  pages  of  letter-paper 
were  filled.  Then  he  read  all  over,  correcting  here  and  there, 
folded  the  sheets,  put  them  in  an  envelop,  sealed  it^  address- 
ed it  to  "  Miss  Cynthia  Stryker,"  and  smiled  as  he  did  so. 

Why  did  he  write  to  her  I  Because,  she  had  written  to 
him.  Why  had  she  written  to  him  ?  The  real  cause,  he 
was  too  free  from  vanity  and  guile  to  suspect.  Cynthia  had 
never  wholly  yielded  the  hope  that  Mr.  Seymour  was  a  cap- 
tive in  her  chains.  She  was  largely  endowed  with  the 
virtue  of  her  family,  prudence.  And  when  the  Rev.  Simon 
Stalker  made  her  the  first  (and  it  might  be  the  last)  decided 
ofier  of  marriage  she  had  ever  had,  she  resolved  to  test  Mr. 
Seymour's  sentiments  before  she  ran  the  risk  of  making  him 
miserable  forever.  The  result  was  the  following  epistle,  con- 
ceived to  the  satisfaction  of  her  highest  ideas  of  delicacy, 
written  in  the  neatest  school-mistress'  hand  and  with  many 
words  emphatically  underscored. 

" ,  May  —.18—. 

"My  DEAR  FRIEND, 

"Having  long  esteemed  you  as  one  of  my  most  particular 
friends,  whose  advice  I  would  value  above  that  of  any  other, 
I  take  the  liberty  of  asking  your  counsel  in  a  matter,  in 
which  happiness  and  usefulness  are  involved  for  a  life-time. 
The  Rev.  Simon  Stalker  (perhaps  you  know  him)  has  made 


372  THE     ROSE-TREK     AND     CELIBACY: 

proposals  requiring  my  most  serious  deliberation.  He  has 
my  respect  and  is  worthy  of  it.  But  when  I  ask  myself,  if 
I  can  love  him  as  I  could  love  one  in  such  a  relation,  I  con- 
fess not.  My  affections  were  long  since  given  to  another, 
who — but  enough  of  that.  It  suffices  to  say  that  there  is 
no  probability  of  my  ever  finding  the  happiness  I  once  fondly 
anticipated.  What  I  wish  to  ask  is,  would  you  advise  me  to 
accept  an  offer  where  I  can  give  esteem,  affectionate  interest, 
every  thing  but  the  heart's  deepest  love,  and  by  which  I  may 
hope  to  be  placed  in  a  situation  of  great  influence  and  use- 
fulness ?  Your  word  shall  decide. 

"  Your  confidential  friend, 

"  CYNTHIA  STRYKER." 

Perry's  reply  was  a  long,  labored  essay  on  love  and  mar- 
riage ;  very  non-committal,  so  far  as  advice,  in  the  case 
asked  for,  was  concerned.  But  Perry  unwittingly  answered 
the  real  question  Miss  Cynthia  wished  to  ask.  She  knew 
now  that  Mr.  Seymour  did  not  want  her ;  and  so  she  threw 
herself  into  the  outstretched  arms  of  the  Rev.  Simon  Stalker. 
She  wrote  once  more  to  thank  him,  and  inform  him  of  her 
acceptance  of  the  friend  she  esteemed  and  loved  only  less 
than  she  could  love.  Here  the  correspondence  ended. 

When  the  summer  ended,  and  Perry  received  the  call  to 
the  pastorship,  he  had  no  need  for  long  deliberation.  The 
experience  of  three  months  was  satisfactory.  He  could  love 
Helen  without  a  pang  that  she  loved  another.  And  soon 
she  would  be  wholly  beyond  the  power  of  reviving  old  and 
tormenting  affections.  If  her  evident  indifference  to  him 
was  ever  painful,  yet,  he  reasoned,  it  was  better  than  that 
both  should  be  unhappy. 


THE     THORN-BUSH     AND     MARRIAGE.  378 

But  Helen's  indifference  of  manner  was  not  to  be  of  longer 
continuance.  Miss  Stryker's  marriage  removed  the  cause 
of  it.  From  that  day  she  returned  to  her  old  way  of  feeling 
and  acting  toward  Perry.  He  was  "  Perry"  again,  not  "  Mr. 
Seymour,"  except  before  third  parties.  She  talked  with  him 
with  ull  the  old,  childish,  winsome  confidence.  Perry 
thought  it  very  delightful.  What  a  dear,  sisterly  friend  she 
was. 

But  Perry  revealed  more  of  his  own  heart's  love  for 
Nellie,  in  those  brotherly  and  sisterly  interviews,  than  he 
was  at  all  aware  of — far  more  than  was  good  for  his  peace, 
or  hers,  if  he  meant  to  persevere  in  the  line  of  conduct 
which  he  had  marked  out  for  himself. 

The  day  after  his  ordination,  Perry  visited  the  city  to  see 
his  mother  and  receive  her  blessing.  Perry  wished  her  to 
give  up  the  boarding-house  and  live  with  him  at  Bedminster 
parsonage.  Mrs.  Seymour  would  not  consent.  "  She  was 
in  debt.  Albert  would  be  discontented  away  from  the  city. 
Besides  Peiry  must  marry,  and  not  have  her  for  an  incum- 
brance  on  his  household." 

"  Mother,  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Perry,  emphatically. 

"  Do  not  say  so,  my  child,"  his  mother  answered  nerv- 
ously. 

Miss  Van  Home  was  in  the  pantry  at  work.  At  this 
point  in  the  conversation  she  suddenly  made  her  appearance, 
holding  a  spoon  in  her  right  hand  dripping  with  sweetmeats, 
which  she  carefully  guarded  from  the  floor  with  her  left  hand. 

"  Is  Helen  Lee  engaged  ?"  she  abruptly  asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Perry,  with  a  smile  ;  "  at  least  as  good 
as  engaged." 


374  THE     ROSE-TRKB,     ETC. 

"  And  you  mean  never  to  marry  ?"  interrupted  Miss  Van 
Home. 

"  I  do." 

"  You  shall"  was  Miss  Van  Home's  peremptory  rejoinder. 
And  she  stalked  back  into  the  pantry  with  the  air  of  a 
despot,  whose  word  was  law. 

"  Perry,  make  no  weak  resolutions,"  said  his  mother, 
tremulously. 

"  I  will  not,  mother,"  he  answered,  affectionately. 

When  Perry  returned  to  Truro,  and  announced  the  failure 
of  his  plans  for  housekeeping,  Mr.  Lee  insisted  that  he  should 
make  Truro  his  home  for  the  fall  and  winter.  If  the  family 
were  away  part  of  the  time,  he  could  keep  bachelor's  hall 
more  comfortably  there  than  in  the  desolate  parsonage.  It 
would  be  time  enough  in  the  spring  to  renovate  that  into  a 
more  agreeable  residence  than  it  now  was. 

Perry  gratefully  accepted  the  invitation. 


XXXVIII. 

art     0rs  be  C0mbat. 


*•  She  confessed,  with  her  usual  frankness,  that  she  had  no  sort  of  dislike  to  his 
gttentions;  that  she  could  even  endure  some  high-flown  compliments;  that  a 
young  woman  placed  ia  her  situation  had  a  right  to  expect  all  sort  of  civil  things 
said  to  her;  that  she  hoped  she  could  digest  a  dose  of  adulation,  short  of  insin- 
cerity, with  as  little  injury  to  her  humility  as  most  young  women  ;  but  that — '' 

CHARLES  LAMB. 


TV/TOLIERE  has  put  in  the  mouth  of  one  of  his  female 
-"-*-  characters  an  assertion  often  heard,  but  that  may  have 
its  exceptions  :  "  Les  belles,  croyez-moi,  sent  toujours  les  plus 
claii  voyantes  a  decouvrir  les  ardeurs  qu'elles  causent ;  et  le 
language  des  yeux  et  des  soupirs  se  fait  entendre  mieux  qu'a 
tout  autre,  a  celle  a  qui  il  s'adresse." 

If  ever  there  was  one  unconscious  of  her  own  attractive- 
ness, and  unsuspicious  of  the  admiration  she  elicited,  it  was 
Helen  Lee.  Accustomed  always  to  be  addressed  in  the  lan- 
guage of  compliment,  and  sometimes  of  more  tender  senti- 
ment, by  men  of  the  world,  she  supposed,  in  her  simplicity, 
that  such  was  the  gallant  entertainment  all  young  ladies 
were  subjected  to.  She  wished  they  would  not  talk  so,  and 
she  liked  best  the  very  few  who  did  not,  pre-eminent  among 
whom  was  Langdon  Murray. 

Of  Langdou  Murray,  however,  she  began  to  be  suspicious. 
Others  saw  in  his  attentions  what  she  did  not,  and  gave  their 


376    A  GREAT  HEART  HOR8  DE  COMBAT. 

opinions  unasked.  She  laughed  at  them.  "  They  liked  each 
other  very  much,"  she  would  say  ;  "  but  there  was  no  more 
in  his  liking  than  in  her's."  Then  they  would  cry,  "  Oh  !" 
and  laugh  at  her.  At  last  she  grew  shy  of  Mr.  Murray. 
"It  is  foolish,"  she  would  say  to  herself;  "but  since  others 
have  put  the  ridiculous  notion  into  my  head,  I  can  not  get 
rid  of  it."  She  was  sure  that  Mr.  Murray  was  not,  what 
people  called,  "in  love,"  at  least  with  her.  "  Oh  !  no." 

Mr.  Langdon  Murray,  experienced  in  the  world,  an  adept 
in  the  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and  sensitive  to  Helen's 
slightest  emotions,  had  read  her  heart  more  correctly  than 
ever  she  had  herself.  He  knew  his  own  position  in  her 
esteem.  She  liked  him ;  but  was  too  free  and  frank  in  ex- 
pressing all  her  liking  to  allow  the  hope  of  more  tender  in- 
terest. He  saw  that  Helen  suspected  not  his  love  ;  and  he 
was  too  discreet  to  make  a  premature  revelation  of  it,  which 
would  only  embarrass  her  and  put  himself  in  an  unfavorable 
position. 

Her  manner  toward  Perry,  the  first  time  he  saw  them  to- 
gether, and  the  way  in  which  she  ever  spoke  of  him — and 
Mr.  Murray  often  led  her  on  by  his  own  skillful  tactics  to 
speak  freely — convinced  him  that  the  young  divinity-student 
was  a  dangerous  rival.  With  the  magnanimity  of  a  noble 
nature,  he  resolved  never  to  stand  between  two  young  hearts 
so  pure  and  so  worthy  of  each  other.  But  he  likewise  re- 
solved to  let  no  other  than  Mr.  Seymour  carry  off  the  prize  ; 
and,  with  all  his  wisdom  and  generosity,  was  really  fostering 
and  strengthening  his  own  love,  while  he  thought  himself 
watching  the  course  of  theirs. 

The  change  of  feeling  and  manner  between  Helen  and 
Perry,  after  the  latter  became  a  resident  at  Truro,  did  not 


A  GREAT  HEART  HOR8  DE  COMBAT.    377 

escape  Mr.  Murray's  observation.  Something  had  happened, 
he  could  not  divine  what,  to  estrange  them — something  that 
had  affected  Helen's  sentiments  more  than  Mr.  Seymour's. 
He  was  only  more  formal  and  reserved.  She  was  more  in- 
different. Mr.  Murray's  hope  revived.  He  grew  sanguine. 
Helen  liked  him  move  and  more,  that  he  was  sure  of,  and  he 
almost  believed  the  liking  would  become  all  that  he  desired. 
This  opinion  was  confirmed  when  Helen  exchanged  a  frank 
familiarity  for  a  coy  reserve.  This  indicated  some  perception 
of  his  feelings,  and,  he  thought,  a  womanly  disposition  to 
conceal  her  own.  She  could  have  adopted  no  method  better 
adapted  to  inspire  him  with  hope. 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  like  Mr.  Murray,"  said  Perry  to  Helen, 
as  they  promenaded  arm  in  arm  one  of  the  avenues,  on  a 
moonlighted  evening.  She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  puz- 
zled amused  air,  which  he  mistook  for  one  of  affectionate 
gratification. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued,  "  I  do  like  him :  and  he  does  not 
seem  to  stand  as  a  bar  between  us,  as  many  another  man,  you 
might  have  fancied,  would  have." 

"  Why,  Perry,  what  do  you  mean  ?  How  could  Mr.  Mur- 
ray be  a  bar  between  us  ?  Or  what  has  my  fancy  to  do  with 
your  liking  ?" 

Perry  looked  grave  as  he  answered.  "  Perhaps,  Nellie,  I 
ought  not  to  have  spoken  about  him,  at  least  till  you  spoke 
first.  The  words  came  out  without  thinking.  You  should 
not  mind  my  talking  about  it." 

"  How  unintelligible  you  are !"  said  Helen,  and  then  im- 
mediately added,  as  a  glimmering  of  what  he  might  mean 
shone  in  upon  her  mind.  "Perry,  is  it  possible  that  you  can 


378         A     aREAT     HEART     H  0  RS     D£     COMBAT. 

think  there  is  any  special  fancy  of  mine,  in  which  Mr.  Mur- 
ray is  interested  ?" 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  it  is  your  ingenuous  self  asking  that 
question,  Nellie,"  he  replied.  "  Of  course  I  do.  Up  to  this 
moment,  I  supposed  that  matters  were  fully  understood  and 
agreed  upon  between  you.  I  can  not  think  so  now.  But  I 
perceive  by  your  attempt  to  mystify  me,  Nellie,  that  you 
would  rather  not  talk  upon  this  subject." 

Helen  had  tried  to  interrupt  him.  "  How  can  you  be  so 
mistaken  !  Did  ever  any  one  tell  you  so,  or  do  you  judge 
from  what  you  have  yourself  seen  ?" 

"  I  have  both  heard  and  seen,  Nellie.  Why  do  you  try  to — . 
But,  come,  let  us  think  of  something  else."  He  spoke 
with  some  impatience. 

"  No,"  answered  Helen  firmly.  "  You  have  fallen  into  a 
great,  strange  error  ;  and  I  must  set  you  right.  In  the  first 
place,  Mr.  Murray  never  expressed  any  particular  '  fancy,'  as 
you  call  it,  for  me,  and  it  is  not  a  woman's  part  to  '  fancy'  be- 
fore she  is  '  fancied.' " 

"  Sentiments  do  not  need  the  expression  of  words,"  said 
Perry,  gravely. 

"  But  he  has  given  no  expression  of  such  sentiments  as  you 
seem  to  imagine." 

"  Sentiments  flow  from  one  heart  to  another  unobserved. 
One  knows  the  sentiments  of  another,  almost  without  know- 
ing that  he  knows  them." 

"  How  perverse  you  are,  Perry.  You  will  allow,  at  least, 
that  one  may  know  their  own  sentiments  ?" 

"  If  they  probe  deep  and  examine  very  carefully.  I  begin 
to  think  that  you,  Nellie,  are  not  practiced  in  the  art  of  in- 
t^spection." 


A  GREAT  HEART  UOR8  DE  COMBAT.    370 

"  I  can  not  help  what  you  think,  /  know  that  I  like  Mr. 
Murray  very  much,  just  as  I  like — " 

"  Me,  for  instance  !"  Perry  put  in,  with  a  smile. 

"  No.  For  we  have  been  more  intimate  and  longer  ac- 
quainted." 

"  Your  brother  Norton,  then  ?" 

';  No.  I  love  Norton  dearly.  I  do  not  love  the  other  : 
though  in  some  things  I  admire  him  more  than  I  do  dear 
Norton." 

"  Well,  you  like  him  as  you  do  Mr.  George  Hughes  ?" 

"No,  nor  as  I  like  him  either.  What  I  like  in  Mr. 
Hughes  is  his  deep,  manly,  fervent  piety.  And  that  is  the 
very  point  in  which  Mr.  Murray  is  deficient.  He  respects 
religion  ;  that  is  all.  The  life  and  power  of  Christianity  he 
is  ignorant  of.  For  that  reason,  if  for  no  other,  I  could  never 
love  him,  Perry  ;  never  !  I  can  only  like  him,  as  a  sensible, 
intelligent,  agreeable  friend,  with  as  many  noble  qualities  as 
an  unrenewed  nature  could  have." 

There  was  too  much  earnestness  and  self-intelligence  in 
all  this  to  permit  the  doubt  that  she  did  not  understand  her- 
self. Perry  was  surprised  beyond  measure  ;  astounded  ;  he 
hardly  yet  could  believe  her.  But  he  felt,  and  reproached 
himself  for  feeling,  a  strange  pleasure  in  her  confessions. 
His  own  heart  was  swelling  and  throbbing  with  emotions  he 
could  not  analyze.  He  silenced  them,  however ;  and^  after  a 
tew  moments,  addressed  Helen  in  an  unusually  serious  manner. 

"  Nellie,  may  I  speak  to  you  freely  on  this  subject  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  she  replied  ;  "  I  wish  you  would ;  just  as 
Norton,  or — as  my  pastor." 

"  I  am  distressed,  Nellie,  for  Mr.  Murray.  You  can  not  be 
ignorant  of  his  love  for  you." 


380         A     GREAT     HEAKT     HOES     DE     COMBAT. 

Helen  laughed  and  repeated,  playfully,  the  words  of  Jenny, 
in  "  The  Gentle  Shepherd  :" 

"  If  Roger  is  my  joe,  he  kens  hirasel, 
For  sic  a  tale  I  never  heard  him  tell. 
He  glow'rs  an'  sighs,  an'  I  can  guess  the  cause ; 
But  wha  's  obliged  to  spell  his  hums  an'  haws  ? 
Whene'er  ho  likes  to  tell  his  mind  mair  plain, 
I  'so  toll  him  frankly  ne'er  to  do  't  again. 
They  're  fools  that  slavery  like,  au'  may  be  free ; 
The  chiels  may  a'  knit  up  themsels  for  me." 

Perry  looked  and  spoke  reprovingly. 

"  You  have  such  a  flow  of  spirits,  you  permit  them  to 
carry  you  beyond  bounds.  Indeed,  Nellie,  you  should  con- 
sider this  matter  more  soberly.  You  know  that  he  loves 
you.  His  love  is  not  to  be  rudely  slighted  as  many  another 
man's  might  be." 

"  Well,  Perry,  since  you  will  have  my  confession,  you 
shall.  I  never  should  have  suspected  that  Mr.  Murray  cared 
for  me,  in  any  other  way  than  I  care  for  him,  if  others  had 
not  said  so.  And  though  I  have  lately  thought  it  barely 
possible,  I  have  not  believed  it,  and  do  not  believe  it  now. 
But  since  you  are  so  sure  about  it,  I  will  try  to  act  with  un- 
common sagacity  and  prudence.  I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure, 
what  I  am  to  do,  or  not  to  do,  in  the  matter ;  but  I  will  try 
to  find  out." 

"  Oh,  Nellie,  can  you  not  return  his — " 

"  Would  you  have  me  marry  one  who  is  not  a  Christian  ?" 
she  interrupted. 

"  Ah  !  they — that  is,  Christian  men  who  could  aspire  to 
your  hand — where  are  they  ?  Will  you  find  one  nearer  the 
type,  so  worthy  your  esteem  and  confidence,  as — " 


A  GREAT  HEART  HORS  DE  COMBAT.    381 

"  Come,  come,"  and  her  laugh  poured  out  too  musically 
for  Perry's  heart.  "  I  have  no  intention  of  being  courted  by 
proxy.  Let  us  go  into  the  house  and  have  some  music. 
They  will  wonder  where  we  are." 

The  sudden  change  in  Helen's  manner  toward  Mr.  Sey- 
mour, and  the  return  of  the  old  intimacy  between  them, 
did  not  escape  Mr.  Murray's  observation,  any  more  than  the 
fact  that  he  himself  was  shunne-1.  What  did  this  betoken  ? 
Could  it  be  a  little  natural  coquetry  ?  He  could  hardly 
believe  that  of  Helen.  But  some  affirmed  that  coquetry 
was  instinctive  in  woman's  nature.  He  chose  for  once  to 
believe  the  scandal.  At  any  rate,  he  had  permitted  his  own 
heart  to  become  too  deeply  interested  to  recede.  Peace  and 
happiness  for  a  life-time  were  at  stake. 

The  time  when  he  must  leave  Truro  was  approaching. 
He  could  not  leave  without  certain  knowledge  of  his  fate. 
He  must  declare  himself.  He  did.  He  caused  Nellie  more 
poignant  distress  than  she  had  ever  suffered  from  any  event 
in  her  life.  For  himself,  he  went  away  hopeless.  And  the 
next  news  heard  of  Mr.  Langdon  Murray  at  Truro  was,  that 
he  had  sailed  for  Europe. 


XXXIX. 

Stt&ben  $ttst  after  irig^t  Sunlight, 


"  Oft  expectation  fails,  and  most  oft  there 
Where  most  it  promises;  and  oft  it  hits 
Where  hope  is  coldest,  and  despair  most  sits." 

SIIAKSPEABB. 


Perry  Seymour,  Mr.  Mui  ray's  sudden  departure  needed 
no  explanation.  He  was  as  sorry  for  Mr.  Murray,  as 
joy  for  himself  would  allow.  He  could  deceive  himself  no 
longer.  His  love  to  Helen  was  what  it  had  ever  been.  The 
secret  conviction  that  she  was  his  of  rights,  so  long  stifled, 
revived  with  new  power.  There  was  no  insuperable  bar 
between  them.  She  was  free.  And  she  loveJ.  him  ;  he 
knew  it;  and  she  knew  it,  too,  now.  The  readiness  to 
confide  to  each  other  every  thought  and  feeling ;  the  intense 
interest  in  each  other's  welfare ;  and  the  craving  of  each  for 
the  other's  approbation,  were  not,  as  they  had  supposed,  the 
result  of  early  and  long  acquaintance,  but  of  early,  long, 
and  devoted  love.  This  new  knowledge  of  themselves  af- 
fected their  manner  toward  each  other.  By  avoiding  the 
meeting  eye  and  the  answering  look,  each  told  the  other 
that  the  secret  was  known. 

But  Perry's  happiness  was  not  unalloyed.  What  was  he 
to  do  ?  To  stay  at  Truro,  and  not  declare  his  love,  were 
impossible.  To  take  advantage  of  the  kindness  of  thai 


A     SUDDEN     OUST.  383 

house  to  win  a  daughter — would  they  regard  that  as  right 
and  honorable  ?  He  could  not  stay.  He  must  be  from 
under  that  roof,  beyond  the  intimacy  of  the  domestic  circle 
at  least,  and  then  they  might  discover  his  purpose  and  op- 
pose it,  if  they  pleased. 

The  day  after  Mr.  Murray  left,  Perry  followed  Mr.  Lee 
into  the  library. 

"  I  have  changed  my  plans,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  and  have  con- 
cluded to  take  up  my  abode  at  the  parsonage." 

More  unwelcome  news  Mr.  Lee  could  hardly  have  heard ; 
for  he  had  consented  to  Mrs.  Lee's  remaining  at  Truro  dur- 
ing the  winter,  while  Helen  should  be  consigned  to  Mrs. 
Darling's  care  in  New-York.  But  if  Mr.  Seymour  left 
Truro,  either  Mrs.  Lee  must  sacrifice  her  preference,  or  Mr. 
Lee  must  consent  to  abide  a  prisoner  at  home.  It  was, 
therefore,  with  ill-concealed  vexation  that  he  put  the  ques- 
tion: 

"  What  has  induced  this  abrupt  determination  ?" 

"  I  deem  it  best,"  was  the  unsatisfactory  answer. 

Mr.  Lee  bit  his  lip.  The  desire  to  find  some  one  to  quar- 
rel with  induced  his  next  question. 

"  Has  any  thing  occurred  on  the  part  of  my  family  that 
makes  you  anxious  to  leave  my  house  ?" 

Perry  hesitated,  and  then  answered :  "  Nothing  in  the 
way  of  unkindness,  sir." 

"  1  dislike  mysteiy,"  Mr.  Lee  exclaimed,  impatiently.  "  In 
the  present  case,  it  is  the  more  offensive,  Perry,  because  you 
are  my  pastor,  and  the  son  of  my  old  friend  ;  and  because, 
it  seems,  there  is  some  fault  in  my  own  family  which  you 
wish  to  conceal." 

"  I  did   not  mean  to  convev  that  idea.     I  disclaim  it 


384  A     SUDDEN     GUST 

There  is  no  fault,  Mr.  Lee — no  fault  in  any  one  as  to  this 
matter.  Please  do  not  press  me  further.  You  would  ap- 
prove of  my  motives,  but  they  are  of  a  nature  not  to  be 
disclosed." 

Perry  had  supposed  his  leaving  Truro,  or  remaining  there, 
was  a  matter  of  comparative  indifference  to  all  but  himself. 
He  was  not,  therefore,  prepared  for  the  expression  of  so  much 
feeling  on  Mr.  Lee's  part.  It  embarrassed  him ;  and  this 
determination  of  Mr.  Lee's  to  learn  his  secret  produced  an 
agitation  that  was  manifest  in  his  voice  and  face.  Mr.  Lee 
observed  it,  and  took  advantage  of  it.  At  any  other  time 
he  would  have  shrunk  from  asking  what  was  not  freely  told. 
But  being  angry,  and  having  convinced  himself  that  some 
member  of  his  family  was  guilty  of  some  special  offense,  he 
was  determined  to  know  the  worst. 

"  You  are  agitated,"  he  said.  "  Something  has  happened. 
I  must  know  what  it  is.  I  insist  upon  it." 

Perry  was  silent.  His  face  aglow,  and  his  eye  bent  upon 
the  floor. 

Mr.  Lee  spoke  again  less  imperatively.  "  You  are  in 
trouble,  Perry.  Surely  I,  as  your  friend,  your  mother's 
friend  and  your  host,  may  claim  your  confidence.  Perhaps 
you  will  find  me  a  better  counselor  than  you  imagine." 

Perry's  habitual  frankness  yielded  to  the  kind  and  assur- 
ing manner  in  which  Mr.  Lee  spoke.  Ingenuously,  simply, 
and  in  a  few  words,  he  told  all :  how  he  had  loved  Helen ; 
had  been  taught  in  worldly  knowledge  to  esteem  himself  no 
fil  match  for  her ;  had  learned  to  consider  her  as  engaged 
1o  another;  and  had  flattered  himself  that  lie  had  overcome 
his  own  love ;  but  the  recent  discovery  that  she  was  still 
free  to  choose,  and  not  indifferent  to  him,  had  revived  his 


AFTER     BRIGHT     SUNLIGHT.  385 

affection  with  renewed  intensity.  u  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that 
you  and  your  family  would  not  wish  her  to  marry  an  humble 
country  clergyman.  I  could  not,  therefore,  take  advantage 
of  your  kindness  to  win  her  to  myself.  And  now,  Mr.  Lee," 
he  added,  cheerfully,  for  the  burden  was  removed,  "  let  me 
go  to  my  own  home,  before  I  learn  to  hope  for  what  may 
never  be." 

"  Stop,"  said  Mr.  Lee,  as  Perry  rose  to  go.  His  counte- 
nance Perry  could  not  read,  there  had  been  such  a  mingling 
in  it  of  both  approbation  and  disf^lvor  with  surprise.  But 
he  declared  himself  as  frankly  as  Perry  had  done.  "  I  ad- 
mire your  candor.  It  increases  my  esteem,  and  assures  me 
that  there  is  no  one  to  whom  I  could  more  safely  intrust 
Helen.  You  are  right  in  your  supposition  that  I  would  not 
choose  for  her  the  lot  of  a  clergyman's  wife.  Should  you 
be  successful,  I  own  I  would  be  not  a  little  disappointed. 
At  the  same  time,  you  have  my  full  consent  to  try.  I  never 
have,  never  will  stand  between  a  daughter  and  her  inclina- 
tions, in  the  matter  of  marriage.  Stay  where  you  are.  Win 
her  if  you  can.  In  a  few  weeks  she  will  leave  for  New 
York.  Let  there  be  no  correspondence,  no  positive  engage- 
ment ;  but  if,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  you  are  both  agreed,  you 
shall  have  my  consent  and  blessing." 

He  wnrmly  shook  Perry's  hand,  and  they  parted.  When 
left  alone,  Mr.  Lee's  countenance  lost  the  kindly  expression 
he  had  forced  into  it ;  he  was  provoked  and  disappointed, 
and  so  expressed  himself  in  muttered  sentences.  If  Lang- 
don  Murray  had  revealed  himself  as  Helen's  lover,  how  dif- 
ferently would  the  worldly  father  have  felt!  One  thing, 
however,  helped  to  reconcile  him  to  what  he  had  most  re- 
luctantly sanctioned,  and  that  was  Mrs.  L<>e's  smile  of  ap- 


386  A     SUDDEN     GUST 

probation  and  real  pleasure,  when  he  repeated  to  her,  imme- 
diately afterward,  what  had  passed  between  Perry  and  him- 
self. 

Helen  entered  Mrs.  Lee's  little  room,  just  after  her  father 
had  left  it.  j  Her  mother  had  tears  in  her  eyes  and  smiles  on 
her  face,  and  she  kissed  Helen — it  was  unusual  for  Mrs.  Lee 
to  kiss  even  her,  she  was  so  undemonstrative — but  she  kissed 
her  now  most  affectionately. 

"  What  has  happened,  ma  ?"  asked  Helen,  hardly  able  to 
refrain  from  laughing  at  her  own  puzzled  state  of  mind. 

"  Oh !  you  will  know,"  answered  Mrs.  Lee.  At  that 
moment,  Mr.  Seymour  opened  the  door ;  her  mother  pushed 
her  toward  him,  in  a  way  that  said,  "  He  will  tell  you." 

Helen  went  with  him  in  a  sort  of  bewilderment.  He  led 
her  down  to  the  stile.  He  took  his  seat  by  her  side,  just  as 
he  had  done  when  they  were  children.  He  told  her  of  the 
dreams  of  his  boyhood,  of  the  new  disclosures  of  the  last 
few  hours,  and  of  her  father's  kind  if  reluctant  indulgence. 
And 

"  In  her  ear  he  whispers  gayly, 

'  If  my  heart  by  signs  can  tell, 
Maiden,  I  have  watched  thee  daily, 
And  I  think  thou  lov'st  me  well.' 
She  replies  in  accents  fainter, 
1  There  is  none  I  love  like  thee.' " 

"  Oh !  Perry,  how  much  better  you  behaved  to  me,  when 
you  supposed  me  to  be  engaged  to  another,  than  I  did  to 
you,  when  I  thought  you  were,"  said  Helen,  as  they  found 
their  way  back  to  the  house  by  dinner-time. 

"  Please  remember,"  he  answered,  laughingly,  "  the  higher 
compliment  I  paid  you  in  the  supposed  object  of  your  affec- 
tion, than  you  accorded  to  me." 


AFTER     BRIGHT     SUNLIGHT.  387 

"  Ah  !  but  I  had  such  evidences.  Who  would  not  have 
believed  ?"  was  her  reply. 

"  Believe  nothing  too  surely,"  he  answered. 

"  Not  even  present  happiness  ?"  she  asked. 

"  It  seems  too  great  to  be  believed." 

And  with  this  pathetic  thought,  they  parted  in  a  pleasant 
melancholy. 

For  one  week  Helen  and  Perry  were  as  happy  as  two  young 
persons  in  their  circumstances  could  be.  Then  came  clouds. 

The  news  of  Mr.  Murray's  sudden  embarkation  for  Europe 
arrived.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Questions  were  asked  of 
Helen  that  she  could  not  parry.  The  truth  came  out.  He 
was  rejected.  "  Incredible  !  absurd  !  shameful !"  were  the 
sisterly  interjections  elicited  by  this  information.  "  So  rich, 
so  handsome,  so  well-connected,  so  much  admired — if  she 
refused  him,  what  did  the  silly  child  expect  ?"  There  must 
be  some  unexplained  cause  for  this  rejection,  the  sisters  sur- 
mised. "  No  girl  could  resist  Mr.  Murray's  attractiveness, 
unless  her  affections  were  pre-occupied."  This  started  them 
upon  a  new  investigation,  which  resulted  in  a  new  outburst 
of  interjectional  exclamations. 

Poor  Helen  !  what  assaults  her  Christian  spirit  had  to 
sustain.  The  sisters  and  brothers,  who  all  their  lives  had 
neglected  her  with  careless  or  selfish  indifference,  suddenly 
discovered  their  great  affection  for  her,  concentrated  their 
thoughts  an,d  energies  upon  her  particular  interests,  and  con- 
stituted themselves  the  special  guardians  of  her  happiness. 

Emma  Darling  esteemed  it  "dreadful"  that  she  should 
marry  a  minister.  If  it  were  dear  Mr.  Sydney  Smith  Par- 
sous,  a  man  of  established  reputation,  and  high  position  in 


388  A     SUDDEN     GUST 

the  church — she  dared  say,  he  would  be  a  bishop  yet — it 
might  be  tolerated.  But  a  plain  country  minister,  who  never 
sould  be  a  bishop,  it  was  preposterous. 

Charlotte  Gaylord  was  shocked  at  the  plebeian  aspect  of 
the  case.  Why,  he  was  the  son  of  a  boarding-house  keeper ! 
His  father  was  highly  respectable,  it  was  true,  and  a  friend 
of  their  family  ;  and  his  mother,  it  must  be  confessed,  was 
a  lady ;  but — she  kept  a  boarding-house  ! 

None  were  more  violent  in  expressions  of  dissatisfaction, 
than  Rupert — Rupert,  who  owed  so  much  to  her  kindness, 
had  felt  and  confessed  her  intellectual  superiority,  and  had 
himself  yielded  to  the  tender  passion,  in  the  person  of  Miss 
Pauline  Delane — or,  her  father's  wide  plantations.  A  par- 
son in  the  family  was  his  abomination  !  He  liked  Mr.  Sey- 
mour well  enough  in  his  place  ;  had  gone  to  hear  him  preach 
to  please  Helen  ;  had  entertained  some  thoughts  of  taking 
to  religion  himself;  but  the  project  of  bringing  religion 
bodily  into  the  family,  in  the  shape  of  a  real  minister,  that 
was  a  step  beyond  endurance. 

Not  satisfied  with  these  home-demonstrations,  the  sisters 
appealed  by  letter  to  the  three  absent  brothers.  Harry  in 
New- York  was  the  first  to  answer.  Once  Perry's  intimate 
friend,  Helen's  sympathetic  brother,  himself  young,  and  on 
the  verge  of  marriage  to  the  woman  of  his  choice — the 
daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant — from  him  a  favorable  re- 
sponse might  have  been  hoped  for.  But  he  had  been 
through  the  mill,  and  come  out  shaven  and  shorn  of  all  nat- 
iffal  and  inartificial  sentiments.  He  condemned  the  match 
as  inexpedient.  Helen  was  "  too  young"  to  judge  for  herself. 
Let  her  see  more  of  the  world,  and  when  she  had  gained 
worldly  wisdom  she  would  thank  them  for  their  interference 


AFTER  BRIGHT  SUNLIGHT.  89 

The  letter  to  Robert  was  answered  by  Theresa.  Shf  held 
ap,  metaphorically,  both  hands  in  horror ;  and  she  i Lifted 
on  Helen's  immediate  removal  from  the  scene  of  danger  to 
her  protecting  care  at  Newport.  Robert  added  a  laconic 
postscript,  the  amount  of  which  was,  that  "  the  child  should 
be  permitted  to  do  as  she  pleased ;  but  would  be  a  fool  if 
she  pleased  to  make  such  a  marriage." 

Norton  replied  in  a  long  and  affectionate  epistle  to  Helen 
herself,  in  which,  ever  speaking  with  cautious  respect  of  Mr. 
Seymour,  and  with  gentle  courtesy  of  her  own  good  judg- 
ment, he  sought  to  dissuade  her  by  an  array  of  arguments 
and  reasons  from  what  he  esteemed  an  unsuitable  match. 

Never  had  there  been  such  an  excitement  in  the  family  of 
Truro.  Like  an  oarsman  who,  once  upon  a  time,  compelled 
to  row  a  party  of  soldiers  over  a  river,  skillfully  suffered  the 
boat  to  be  carried  down  stream  with  the  tide,  while  he 
seemed  to  labor  hard  at  the  oar — Mr.  Lee,  with  a  fair  show 
of  resistance,  allowed  himself  to  be  overpowered  by  the 
sweeping  current  of  domestic  opinion  that  was  carrying 
Helen  far  away  from  the  haven  of  her  hopes  and  happiness. 
He  had  another  interview  with  Perry  Seymour — assured  him 
of  his  high  esteem — but  such  was  the  youth  of  Helen  and 
the  repugnance  of  other  members  of  the  family  to  her  be- 
coming a  minister's  wife — that,  for  the  present  at  least,  there 
must  be  a  cessation  of  all  intimacy  between  the  two ;  and 
he  concluded  by  leaving  Perry  at  liberty  to  remain  at  Truro, 
or  remove  to  the  parsonage,  as  he  pleased. 

Theresa  Lee's  suggestion  was  immediately  acted  upon,  and 
Helen  was  carried  off"  in  triumj  h  to  Newport  by  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Gracie  Darling,  on  the  same  day  that  Perry  Seymour 
took  up  his  lonely  abode  at  Bedminster  Parsonage. 


XL. 


0f  Juts  in  Stntnp  flans. 


"I  resolved  that,  like  the  sun,  so  long  as  my  day  lasted,  I   would  look  on 
the  bright  side  of  every  thing." — THOMAS  HOOD. 


TJELEN  met  her  mother's  sad,  helpless,  pitiful  look  with  a 
-*-•*-  smile  and  a  kiss. 

"  Do  not  worry  about  me,  dear  ma,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not 
mean  to  be  miserable.  Do  you  not  believe  these  our  little 
trials  are  all  controlled  and  blessed  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  child,"  was  the  answer,  "  and  '  Blessed  are 
all  they  who  put  their  trust  in  Him.' " 

Some  tears  in  secret  Helen  did  weep :  a  few  bitter  tears, 
more  regretful  ones.  She  wept  as  much  for  Perry  as  herself, 
for  she  knew  that  he  in  the  lonely  parsonage  and  secluded 
village  would  feel  the  disappointment  more  sensibly  than 
she  could.  But  Helen  had  a  good  conscience,  a  pure  heart, 
a  buoyant  spirit  and  a  fervent  faith.  She  looked  on  the 
bright  side,  by  the  instinct  (if  it  may  be  said)  of  a  Christian 
nature.  If  sometimes  pensive,  she  was  never  melancholy  : 
and  nothing  was  further  from  her  thoughts  than  to  sulk  and 
die  of  a  broken  heart,  with  the  heroine  of  the  boarding-school 
drama.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  her  purpose  to  be  as  happy 
as  she  could  be. 

With  keen  relish  she  accepted  all  that  was  pleasurable  in 


ODORS     OF     PIETy.  391 

this  first  visit  to  Newport.  The  surf-bathing,  the  drives 
along  the  sea-beach,  the  novelty  of  life  in  a  large  hotel,  and 
the  variety  of  character  to  be  studied  r.mong  fashionables, 
would-be-fashionables  and  (not  less  interesting)  won't-be- 
fashionables,  all  afforded  her  amusement.  But  if  her  sisters 
thought  her  heart  changed  by  change  of  scene,  and  took  her 
joyousness  as  proof  of  the  obliteration  of  Perry  Seymour's 
image  from  her  memory,  it  was  because  her  sisters  were  no 
more  capable  of  understanding  and  appreciating  her  charac- 
ter than  they  were  of  comprehending  the  spirit  of  Hebrew 
poetry. 

The  winter  in  New  York  at  Gracie  Darling's  Helen  en- 
joyed. Her  mother  and  father  were  there  to  make  it  pleas- 
auter.  Sometimes,  too,  she  could  go  to  sec  Mrs.  Seymour 
and  Mr.  Sickles.  She  could  not  talk  to  them  about  Perry  as 
she  would  have  liked — but  this  she  cared  less  for,  because 
cousin  Hetty  Hughes'  letters  gave  her  full  information  con- 
cerning the  young  pastor. 

To  Emma  it  was  a  cause  of  no  less  surprise  than  regret 
that  Helen  did  not  delight  in  the  society  of  the  Rev.  Sydney 
Smith  Parsons.  He  was  as  perfect  a  minister  as  the  united 
genius  of  a  tailor,  a  posture-master,  a  popular  lecturer  to 
literary  associations,  and  a  Romish  priest  who  could  repeat 
scraps  memoriter  from  the  fathers,  might  be  supposed  to  pro- 
duce. His  performance  of  the  service  of  worship  was  at 
least  extraordinary.  Milton  described  the  Rev.  Sydney 
Smith  Parsons,  when  he  wrote  of  the  priest  who  "  conned 
his  motions  and  his  postures,  his  liturgies  and  his  lurries,  till 
the  soul  by  this  means  of  overbodying  herself  bated  her 
wing  apace  downward  ;  and  finding  the  ease  she  had  from 
her  visible  and  sensuous  colleague  the  body,  in  performance 


892  ODORS     OF     PIETY 

of  religious  duties,  her  pinions  now  broken  and  flagging 
shifted  off  from  herself  the  labor  of  high  soaring  any  more 
and  forgot  her  heavenly  flight."  One  visit  to  St.  Cruciform 
church  sufficed.  Helen  would  not  go  again.  While  the 
rest  of  the  family  went  to  admire  and  be  melted  into  ecsta- 
cies,  Helen  and  her  mother,  sometimes  escorted  by  her 
father,  sought  for  edification  in  the  more  obscure  church 
which  Mrs.  Seymour  attended,  and  where,  in  place  of  ele- 
gant essays  on  Christian  virtues,  the  Gospel  was  preached, 
whicu  tells  not  only  what  goodness  is,  but  how  it  is  to 
be  obtained  through  the  grace  of  a  Divine  Redeemer. 

Going  to  church  with  the  family  was  not  the  only  thing 
she  would  not  do.  She  had  a  will  of  her  own,  and  asserted 
it  on  occasions  with  an  inflexibility  and  a  good  humor  that 
obtained  for  her  the  reputation  of  amiable  obstinacy ;  yet 
she  was  neither  obstinate,  nor,  in  the  popular  sense,  amiable ; 
but  had  the  opposite  qualities  which  belong  to  an  impetu- 
ous, high-spirited,  and  generous  nature.  But  as  she  laughed 
at  remonstrance  and  ridicule,  and  yet  would  not  go  to  the 
theater — and  would  not  go  to  the  opera — and  would  go  only 
to  such  concerts  and  parties  as  she  could  approve,  her  saga- 
cious friends  classified  her  with  that  species  of  humanity  that 
is  known  as  the  amiably  perverse.  If  there  were  amuse- 
ments to  which  she  could  be  induced  by  no  methods  of  per- 
suasion or  coercion,  it  was  not  because  of  prudishness,  prim- 
ness, moroseness,  or  sedateness.  She  liked  gayety  ;  liked  it 
even  better  than  she  approved  it.  She  was  willing  to  enter 
into  it  within  rational  limits,  and  was  sorely  tempted  some- 
times to  pass  beyond  those  indefinite  boundaries.  And  she 
was,  by  unanimous  acclamation,  the  most  joyous-hearted  and 
icy-inspiring  of  the  family. 


IN     STRANGE     PLACES.  393 

The  next  summer  was  spent  in  traveling  and  visiting  water 
ing-places  with  Robert  and  Theresa.  la  the  fall,  they  were 
joined  by  Mi.  and  Mrs.  Gay  lord,  and  after  a  long  tour 
through  Canada,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky,  and  visits  to  Niagara, 
the  Lakes,  and  the  Mammoth  Cave,  they  arrived  at  last  at 
Mr.  Gaylord's  plantation,  where  the  ensuing  winter  was 
passed. 

Southern  life  presented  an  entirely  new  phase  of  human- 
ity to  Helen's  observations.  She  liked  it  amazingly  in  some 
features.  The  warm,  cordial,  frank  simplicity  of  Southern 
manners  attracted  her  as  like  does  like.  But  she  was  brought 
in  contact  only  with  the  gayest  and  least  religious,  and  while 
she  formed  friendships  and  attachments  as  fervent  as  the 
Southern  sky  above  her,  she,  if  the  truth  be  all  told,  admit- 
ted into  her  heart  some  as  life-long  aversions. 

This  winter  Helen  was  Pauline  Delane's  bride's-maid  and 
saw  her  brother  Rupert  assume  the  life  of  a  planter,  to  lord 
it  over  the  slaves  to  his  heart's  content.  Poor  Rupert !  He 
was  greatly  improved,  and  regarded  his  beautiful  sister  with 
vast  respect  and  admiration.  But  she  feared  the  effect  of 
the  Southern  atmosphere  (physical  and  social),  on  such  a 
disposition  as  his.  Why  was  it  that  her  mother's  son  had 
not  the  first  idea  of  religion  ? 

That  Helen  had  forgotten  the  young  minister,  the  sisters 
felt  sure.  How  else  could  she  enter  with  so  much  zest  into 
the  scenes  around  her.  Yet  she  smiled  upon  no  admirer. 
Young  and  old,  learned  and  grave,  rich  and  gay,  had  ac- 
knowledged her  fascinations,  without  exciting  one  tender 
sentiment  in  return.  The  conquest,  they  hoped,  remained 
for  Langdon  Murray.  Their  plan  had  succeeded  to  admira- 


394  ODORS     OF     PIETY 

tion  so  far — it  only  needed  now  the  presence  of  the  discarded 
lover  to  be  complete.  The  wish  to  bring  the  two  together 
was  suggestive  of  a  European  tour.  What  prevented  ? 
Theresa  was  always  ready  to  take  wing,  Robert  was  com- 
plaisant, and  Helen  herself  delighted  with  the  prospect  of 
gratifying  the  desire  of  travel  and  sight-seeing  which  burns 
in  every  young  and  enterprising  nature.  The  early  Spring 
found  Helen,  Robert,  and  the  tireless  Theresa  again  en  route. 
There  was  a  rapid  journey  to  New  York,  a  brief  meeting 
with  relatives  and  Mends,  and  a  tearful  embarkation,  for 
voyages  undertaken  for  pleasure,  like  many  other  pleasurable 
things,  begin  and  end  with  tears. 

England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  were  explored,  and  the 
travelers  arrived  in  London  in  time  to  attend  a  state  ball 
and  be  presented  at  court.  The  second  day  after  their  ar- 
rival, Mr.  Langdon  Murray  left  his  card.  Theresa  was  de- 
lighted at  the  happy  chance  which  had  at  last  brought  him 
and  Helen  to  the  same  locality.  That  evening  he  called 
again.  They  were  at  home.  The  meeting,  but  for  a  shade 
of  embarrassment  at  the  first  instant,  was  cordial.  It  was 
evident  that  the  pleasure  was  mutual.  For  a  week  Mr. 
Murray  attached  himself  to  their  party  ;  and  he  aud  Helen 
seemed  to  be  on  their  old  terms  of  unrestrained  friendship. 
Theresa  indulged  extravagant  hopes,  which  were  doomed  to 
speedy  disappointment.  Mr.  Murray  and  Helen  Lee  under- 
stood one  another.  They  were  only  the  best  of  friends. 

"  Brother  Robert  will  you  take  me  to  the  great  meeting 
at  Exeter  Hall  to-day  ?"  asked  Helen,  one  morning. 

"  No,"  answered  Theresa,  quickly,  "  I  need  his  services  in 
another  direction.  Mr.  Murray  will  gladly  render  his  attend- 
ance upon  you  unnecessary." 


IN     STRANGE     PLACES.  395 

Helen  laughed  as  she  answered,  for  she  knew  what  con- 
sternation the  answer  would  cause.  "Mr.  Murray,  sister 
Theresa,  is  somewhere  on  the  Channel." 

Theresa's  look  of  blank  amazement  was  answered  by 
Helen's  merry  laugh  of  amusement.  "  He  left  his  respects 
for  you  and  Robert  last  night  and  was  very  sony  not  to  see 
you  to  say  good-by." 

Theresa  was  too  much  provoked  to  make  an  audible  com- 
ment. One  or  two  interjections  received  an  angry  half-emis- 
sion from  her  lips,  such  as  "  insane !"  "  weak  !"  "  silly  !"  Her 
disappointment  was  too  real  not  to  affect  Helen's  sympathetic 
nature  with  a  touch  of  sorrow  for  her,  and  coming  up  to  her, 
she  whispered  in  her  ear  these  words. 

"  Dear  Theresa,  I  am  no  more  the  cause  of  his  leaving 
than  I  was  of  his  coming  here.  He  understands  perfectly 
that  we  are  only  friends." 

He  had  not  been  again  rejected.  This  was  some  comfort, 
and  left  still  a  cranny  for  hope  to  shine  through.  Theresa  re- 
covered her  spirits.  Another  project  soon  captivated  her  vol- 
atile heart  and  for  a  time  banished  Mr.  Murray  from  her 
thoughts.  The  American  minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James 
was  no  other  than  the  grave  senator,  with  the  heavy,  pas- 
sionate, thoughtful  eyes,  who,  some  four  years  previously,  had 
felt  the  influence  of  Helen's  attractiveness,  and  now  yielded 
himself  without  resistance  to  the  power  of  her  womanly 
beauty,  goodness  and  intelligence.  An  ambitious  woman 
could  not  have  refused  the  great  and  world-renowned  states- 
man. But  Helen  Lee  was  not  ambitious,  and  was  annoyed, 
more  than  flattered,  by  the  distinguished  attentions  which 
rendered  her  disagreeably  conspicuous.  Could  she  have  fol- 
lowed her  own  counsels,  she  would  have  fled  from  London 


396  ODORS     OF     PIETY 

and  avoided  the  society  where  the  great  man  could  come. 
But  Theresa,  like  every  worldly  woman,  was  dexterous  in 
management,  fertile  in  expedients.  Her  own  heart  was  set 
on  the  match.  She  would  not  believe  that  it  could  fail. 
She  left  the  door  of  approach  open.  She  gave  the  en- 
couragement to  the  suitor,  which  Helen  withheld.  She  per- 
severed, till  a  formal  offer  met  with  a  prompt  refusal ;  and 
with  the  disfavor  of  both  parties  for  her  thankless  interfer- 
ence, she  at  last  yielded  to  the  conviction  that  Helen  was  an 
impracticable  simpleton.  A  felicitous  conclusion  tor  Helen's 
future  peace  and  exemption  from  her  sister-in-law's  maneu- 
vers. 

The  affair  with  the  minister  hastened  their  departure  from 
England.  Two  months  were  spent  in  Paris  and  three 
months  in  Switzerland.  Every  locality  of  interest  was  visit- 
ed; every  wish,  or  whim,  leisurely  gratified.  Restricted  by 
neither  time  or  money,  they  traveled,  or  tarried  when,  how, 
or  where  they  pleased,  and  as  summer  approached  again, 
they  turned  their  faces  northward,  passed  through  the  Ger- 
man States,  and  extended  their  travels  to  St.  Petersburg  and 
parts  of  Norway  and  Sweden. 

It  was  fortunate  that  acquaintances  were  found  in  all  the 
large  cities  they  visited,  for  Helen  and  Theresa  seldom  cared 
to  see  the  same  sights,  or  engage  in  the  same  amusements. 
Their  tastes  were  as  opposite  as  their  principles,  and  both 
were  often  in  conflict.  Helen  would  not  go,  on  Sundays,  to 
witness  splendid  masses  or  splendid  military  reviews,  or  any 
thing  else  purely  secular  :  and  she  cared  not,  on  other  days, 
to  visit  masquerades  and  theaters,  or  examine  and  buy  costly 
fabrics  in  the  shops.  She  did  like,  even  in  Paris,  to  seek  out 
Protestant  churches,  and  make  herself  a.  .juainted  with  the 


IN     STRANGE     PLACES.  397 

views  and  habits  of  humble  Christian  folk,  such  as  she  saw  at 
the  Sunday  meetings,  and  found  on  week  days  in  the  little 
shops  of  the  Bazaar,  or  the  ateliers  of  work-women.  She 
delighted  in  paintings,  statuary  and  architecture  too;  but 
these  Theresa  had  seen  over  and  over  again  to  the  excess  of 
ennui,  not  having  as  much  taste  that  way,  as  for  the  pattern 
of  a  new  lace,  or  costliness  of  a  new  bonnet.  It  was  often, 
therefore,  necessary  that  Theresa  and  Helen  should  each  be 
provided  with  a  special  escort :  and,  strange  to  say,  Robert 
was  ever  willing  to  be  Helen's,  and  Theresa  never  reluctant 
to  accept  of  some  other. 

Robert  and  Theresa  liked  each  other  as  much  as  was 
fashionable.  He  humored  her,  she  admired  him.  As  for 
love,  there  had  never  been  much,  and,  on  her  side  at  least, 
there  was  not  much  material  for  it  to  grow  upon.  A  plain- 
looking,  superficially-educated,  ill-disciplined  girl,  fond  of 
dress,  gayety,  and  good  living,  she  had  continued  through 
the  long  years  of  married  life,  the  course  begun  in  youth, 
utterly  thoughtless  whether  there  might  not  be  a  more  ex- 
cellent way.  A  mother,  who  could  separate  herself  for 
years,  as  she  had  done,  from  her  son  and  only  child,  and  not 
feel  (happily,  indeed,  for  the  son  in  this  instance)  that  the 
highest  privilege  of  the  mother  is  to  watch  over  and  develop 
the  character  of  her  child — what  great  good  was  to  be  ex- 
pected from  her  ?  Her  husband  gratified  her  tastes  more 
than  he  participated  in  them,  and  was  patiently  led  about 
by  her  whithersoever  she  wished  to  go. 

But  Robert  Lee  was  capable  of  appreciating  better  things. 
There  was  an  undeveloped  part  of  his  nature  that  his  worldly 
wife  never  reached.  Helen  did.  Attracted  by  her  beauty, 
her  spirit,  and  her  genius,  Robert's  brotherly  interest  in  his 


398  ODORS     OF     PIETY 

sister  soon  grew  into  exalted  admiration.  He  could  not  now, 
as  when  she  was  a  child,  give  her  a  toss  in  the  air  and  a 
kiss,  and  then  forget  all  about  her.  He  had  to  study  her, 
to  feel  her  influence,  and  to  yield  to  it.  Had  Helen  known 
the  power  she  had  acquired  over  him,  she  would  have  been 
startled ;  and  yet  more  astonished  to  learn  that  her  true, 
artless,  but  vigorous  piety  had  won  its  way  to  his  heart,  had 
led  him  to  think,  had  made  him  an  attentive  listener  to  the 
sermons  he  had  escorted  her  to  hear,  and  had  induced  him 
to  read  the  Bible  his  mother  had  given  him,  which,  from 
filial  affection,  he  always  carried  with  him  on  his  travels,  but 
heretofore,  alas  !  had  carried  unread. 

The  second  winter  in  Europe  was  to  be  spent  in  Italy. 
At  the  close  of  a  warm  afternoon,  after  a  day's  journey  ren- 
dered more  tedious  by  accidental  delays,  they  arrived  in 
Florence.  After  dinner,  Robert  and  Theresa  sallied  forth  to 
have  one  look  at  the  Campagna.  Helen  preferred  spending 
the  evening  at  home.  They  had  hardly  gone ;  and  she,  re- 
clining upon  a  couch,  was  just  losing  herself  in  dreamy 
sleep,  when  a  courier  presented  himself  before  her,  with  a 
card  in  his  hand.  She  took  it.  It  was  Langdon  Murray's. 
Something  was  written  with  a  pencil  under  the  name.  She 
carried  it  to  the  light  and  read  the  words,  traced  in  a  feeble 
hand,  "Please  come  immediately."  The  courier  gave  her 
the  needed  explanation.  Mr.  Murray  was  very  ill.  Had 
been  watching  for  their  arrival  for  several  days.  There  was 
hardly  a  prospect  of  his  living  through  the  night.  He  was 
sensible  now — in  an  hour  he  might  be  raving  again.  Her 
resolution  was  soon  taken.  She  called  her  maid,  and  the 
two  started  out  together  under  the  adventurous  protection  of 


IN     8TRANOE     PLACES.  399 

this  unknown  courier.  He  had  provided  no  carriage — none 
Avas  to  be  had  without  the  loss  of  much  time.  Through  the 
dim-lighted  streets,  often  jostled  in  a  crowd — rudely  inspected 
when  there  were  few  idlers  on  the  path — they  walked  on,  it 
seemed  to  Helen,  for  miles ;  at  last  they  came  to  a  palatial 
residence,  from  one  single  window  of  which  a  light  streamed 
out  from  the  half-drawn  curtains.  They  passed  up  marble 
stairs,  through  dark  corridors,  round  sudden  corners — the 
maid  tightly  grasping  Helen's  arm,  and  trembling  from 
head  to  foot  in  imaginary  terrors — Helen  herself  laughing 
and  scolding  at  her  apprehensions,  and  yet  feeling  the  un- 
comfortableness  and  awkwardness  of  their  position — till  at 
last  the  room  from  which  the  light  had  been  visible  was 
reached.  Dim  the  light  was,  and  hardly  illuminated  the  im- 
mense apartment  sufficiently  to  show  that  the  dark  object 
on  the  other  side  was  a  bed.  While  they  still  stood  hesi- 
tating, a  black  figure  arose  from  the  side  of  the  bed  and 
came  toward  them.  He  uttered  a  joyful  cry  as  he  recog- 
nized Helen.  It  was  Mr.  Murray's  long-attached  servant. 

"  Have  they  come,  Simon  ?"  asked  a  faint  voice  from  the 
bed. 

The  servant  put  his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  returned 
to  the  bed.  "  Have  they  come  ?"  the  sick  man  asked 
again. 

"  Who  ?"  inquired  Simon. 

"  Mr.  Lee  and  Miss  Lee." 

"  Yes.  They  are  in  Florence.  Miss  Lee  is  here,  will  you 
see  her  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  and  the  invalid  raised  himself  in  the  bed  and 
looked  out  into  the  dim  light  of  the  room,  but  unable  to  see 
any  one,  fell  back  again  on  the  pillow. 


400  ODORS     OF     PIETY 

Simon  moved  the  light  to  a  little  table  near  the  bed 
and  placed  a  chair  by  it  for  Helen,  and  then  beckoned  her 
to  approach,  talking  all  the  while  himself,  as  if  to  occupy 
and  prepare  the  sick  man's  mind  for  the  interview.  "  You 
will  get  well,  now,  sir.  But  you  must  not  talk  too  much. 
Miss  Lee  can  not  stay  long.  She  and  her  brother  will  both 
come  to-morrow  and  not  leave  you  again  till  you  are  well, 
sir.  Here  she  is,  sir.  Here  is  Miss  Lee." 

Mr.  Murray  had  closed  his  eyes,  and  with  the  languor  of 
sickness,  seemed  to  be  indifferent  even  to  that  presence  which 
he  had  so  craved  for.  But  no  sooner  did  he  open  his  eyes 
and  see  Helen's  face,  than  his  own  lighted  up  with  a  smile 
of  pleasure. 

Her  few  questions  were  briefly  answered.  He  was  ill  of 
fever.  Had  been  sick  three  weeks,  was  better  now,  but  hope- 
less of  life.  The  severity  of  the  fever  had  abated  temporarily, 
but  the  disease  was  not  removed. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  Mr.  Murray?"  asked  Helen, 
commanding  her  feelings,  that  longed  for  the  relief  of 
tears. 

He  took  from  under  his  pillow  a  Bible  and  put  it 
into  her  hands.  "  Tell  me,  Helen,"  he  said,  with  a  voice 
rendered  strong  by  earnestness,  "  how  a  sinner  may  be 
saved.  Read  to  me  the  proof  of  what  you  say  from  that 
Book." 

Helen  trembled  now  with  an  agitation,  the  cause  of  which 
she  could  not  define.  Her  thoughts  were  confused,  she 
knew  not  what  to  say.  That  man,  who  had  so  often  turned 
with  indifference  from  the  words  of  truth — in  all  other  things 
excelling  all — did  he  now  ask  instruction  and  seek  to  be  a 
learner  of  her  ? 


IN     STRANGE     PLACES.  401 

While  she  still  hesitated,  he  spoke  again.  "  For  the  first 
time  I  feel  the  need,  which,  }TOU  say,  the  Gospel  supplies.  I, 
never  esteemed  by  others,  never  adjudged  by  myself  a  sinner 
— now  suffer  one,  single,  absorbing,  fearful  conviction  of 
guilt,  awful  guilt  before  God.  Nor  can  I  discover  a 
ground  of  assurance  for  the  world  to  come.  Reason, 
nature,  conscience  give  me  no  hope.  Tell  me  if  the  Bible 
does?" 

The  solemn  deliberation  with  which  he  spoke,  the  earnest 
entreaty  with  which  he  implored  light,  helped  to  calm 
Helen's  mind  and  enable  her  to  speak  to  the  point.  With 
the  sweet,  childish  simplicity  which  characterized  all  she  said 
and  did,  she  repeated  the  blessed  doctrine  of  forgiveness 
through  a  Divine  and  atoning  Saviour.  She  turned  to 
chapter  and  verse  for  the  proof  of  her  assertions.  She  grew 
animated  and  earnest  as  she  proceeded.  There  was  elo- 
quence in  the  faith  and  love  with  which  she  pleaded  for 
Christ  with  the  sick  man's  unbelieving  heart.  At  first  he 
interrupted  her  constantly  with  questions :  then  he  became 
silent.  As  she  grew  more  earnest  he  wept.  And  when  she 
ended,  he  besought  her  to  pray  with  him.  At  another  time 
she  could  not  have  complied  with  such  a  request.  Never  had 
she  uttered  an  audible  prayer  in  the  hearing  of  any  human 
creature,  since  her  infancy.  But  now  she  did  not  hesitate. 
Nor  was  it  an  ordinary  prayer  of  well  ordered  words  that 
she  pronounced  by  that  bed-side:  it  was  the  soul's 
wrestlin^  with  the  anjjel  of  the  covenant  for  another 

^3  o 

soul's  salvation,  in  thoughts  and  intercessions  of  the  Spirit's 
inditing. 

"Oh,  Helen,"  said  the  sick  man,  when  she  had  finished, 
"  I  do  commit  myself  into  the  hands  of  that  Redeemer,  but 


402  ODORS     OF     PIETY. 

I  have  no  evidence,  none  that  1  can  discover,  of  His  accept- 
ance of  rne.  I  think  I  understand  it  now.  I  think  I  see 
that  what  my  dear  mother  believed,  and  you  believe,  is  not 
the  unsubstantial,  mystical,  unsatisfactory  vagaries  I  once 
thought.  But  my  mind  is  dark.  My  heart  heavy.  Leave 
me  now  :  and  come  again  to-morrow." 

Helen  retired  from  the  bed-side  and  looked  at  her  watch. 
It  was  past  midnight.  Three  long  hours  had  she  been  in 
that  room  :  she  could  hardly  believe  it.  Now,  first,  it  occur- 
red to  her  that  she  had  left  no  word  for  her  brother,  when 
she  so  unexpectedly  came  away  from  the  hotel.  She  would 
not  venture  again  into  the  street  without  him.  A  mes- 
senger was  dispatched  and  after  another  hour  returned  with 
Robert.  The  sick  man  in  the  mean  time  had  become 
restless.  They  could  not  leave  him.  Before  morning  broke 
he  had  intrusted  his  last  earthly  wishes  to  Robert  Lee's 
friendly  care ;  and  with  composure,  at  least,  though  with 
no  bright  assurances  of  hope  for  the  future  world,  he  had 
yielded  up  his  spirit  into  the  hands  of  Him  who  gave  it. 


XLL 


S0st 


"I  am  bold  to  say,  that  the  work  of  God  in  the  conversion  of  one  soul; 
considered  together  with  the  source,  foundation  and  purchase  of  it,  and  also 
the  benefit,  end  and  eternal  issue  of  it,  is  a  more  glorious  work  of  God  than 
the  creation  of  the  whole  material  universe."  —  JONATHAN  EDWAKDS. 


rPHEY  were  on  the  ocean.  Robert,  who  had  seemed  de- 
-*-  pressed  in  spirits  for  some  time  past,  was  sitting  with 
his  head  on  the  bulwarks,  his  whole  attitude  expressing  a 
state  of  mental  uncomfortableness.  Theresa  sat  beside 
him,  with  a  face  expressive  hah0  of  annoyance  and 
half  of  anxiety.  Helen  came  on  deck  and  approached 
them. 

"  Here,  Nellie,"  said  Theresa,  rising  from  her  seat,  "  do 
see  if  you  can  not  cheer  up  Bob.  I  have  rattled  on  for  an 
hour,  telling  all  the  nonsense  and  repeating  all  the  jokes  I 
could  think  of,  and  he  has  not  rewarded  me  with 
a  single  smile.  There  is  witchery  in  you.  Do  try  your 
hand  now  and  put  some  life  into  this  dull  relative  of 
ours." 

Theresa  spoke  good-humored  ly,  but  was  not  sorry  to 
yield  her  seat  and  retire  to  the  cabin.  Robert  did  not 
move,  nor  seem  to  hear  what  his  wife  said.  But  he 
permitted  Helen  to  take  his  hand  in  hers  and  pressed  hers 
in  its  grasp. 


404  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

"  Dear  Robert,  can  I  do  any  thing  for  you  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  You,  if  any  one,"  he  replied. 

"  What  is  it  ? — are  you  sick  ?" 

"  Sick  ?     Yes.     Not  in  the  body  though." 

"  Your  mind  then  is  distressed  about  something.  Please 
tell  me  frankly  what  it  is." 

He  moved  closer  to  her  and  turning  his  face  so  that 
the  side  of  it  rested  on  his  hand  on  the  bulwarks,  he  looked 
directly  in  hers — oh  how  pale  and  sorrowful  his  face  was 
— "Nellie,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  Christian  if  there  ever 
was  one ;  can  you  not  guess  what  is  the  matter  with 
me?" 

She  did  not  answer.  Her  heart  was  throbbing  too 
violently. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  what  to  do  ?"  he  asked,  with  a 
pleading  voice. 

"  Look  to  the  Saviour.  Ask  Him,"  was  all  she  could  say 
"Have  you  a  Bible?" 

"Yes." 

"  Where  ?" 

"Here."  He  took  from  his  pocket  his  mother's  Bible 
Helen  marked,  on  the  blank  leaf,  references  to  the  third  chap- 
ter of  St.  John,  the  fifth  and  eight  chapters  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Romans,  and  the  fifty-fifth  of  the  Prophecies  of  Isaiah. 
"  Read  those  chapters,"  she  said, "  in  the  order  specified.  Read 
them  again  and  again.  Ponder  them  and  pray  for  light  to 
understand  them.  The  first  will  show  you  what  is  necessary 
in  the  creature  in  order  to  salvation.  The  second,  the  plan 
revealed  in  Christ  for  salvation.  The  third,  the  security  of 
those  who  are  embraced  in  this  scheme.  And  the  last 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  405 

the  freedom  and  fullness  of  the  invitation  to  come  to  be 
saved." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  taking  the  Bible.  Having  at- 
tentively observed  the  marks,  he  placed  the  volume  in  his 
pocket  and  waited  for  her  to  speak  again. 

"  Dear  Robert,"  she  said,  "  you  must  yourself  carry  this 
matter  directly  to  your  God.  He  admits  no  priests  between 
man's  soul  and  Himself,  save  the  great  High  Priest.  In 
His  name,  but  with  your  own  heart,  your  own  lips  aiid  your 
<>wn  words,  pray  for  light,  faith,  penitence  and  acceptance. 
And  forget  not,  dear  brother,  that  prayer  is  not  a  mere 
thought,  or  wish,  or  emotion  framed  in  the  heart.  Prayer 
is  the  actual  and  formal  offering  up  of  desires,  in  the  way  of 
asking,  and  in  uttered  words,  unto  our  Heavenly  Father. 
You  can  not  answer  the  ends  of  prayer  by  a  few  devotional 
thoughts,  or  a  hasty  repetition  of  words,  as  you  sit  here  on 
the  deck,  or  lie  in  your  berth.  On  your  knees,  with  deliber- 
ated, earnest  and  repeated  entreaties,  you  must  ask,  if  you 
would  receive.  It  is  here,  brother  Robert,  that  the  pride  of 
man's  heart,  more  than  woman's,  too  often  rebels." 

"  Dear  Nellie,"  he  exclaimed,  as  if  his  thoughts  had  be,-n 
more  upon  her  than  on  what  she  said,  u  how  is  it  that  you, 
with  the  example  of  all  your  brothers  and  sisters  to  mislead 
you,  have  turned  out  so  good  ?" 

"  Do  you  forget  our  dear  mother's  example  ?"  asked  Helen, 
reproachfully. 

"  No,  Nellie.  But  mother's  influence  was  never  of  the  pos- 
itive kind.  She  used  to  try  to  talk  to  me,  in  my  childhood, 
but  always  broke  down  and  ended  with,  '  be  a  good  boy.' 
Once  I  was  sick  :  she  thought  I  was  asleep,  and  sin-  kiifi-lrd 
down  beside  me  and  offered  a  prayer.  It  was  very  brief  and 


406  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

she  seemed  "tightened  at  herself  good,  dear,  diffident 
mother !  it  was  so  unlike  her  to  attempt  any  tiling  of  the 
sort.  But  that  prayer  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me. 
From  that  time  I  have  indulged  an  undefined  hope  that  some 
day  that  prayer  would  be  answered.  Mother's  influence 
was  good,  Nellie,  but  not  decided.  It  made  none  of  the 
rest  of  us  good,  and  I  doubt  if  that  alone  has  made  you 

80." 

"  But  there  was  Mr.  Poole's  influence,  Robert ;  did  you 
never  feel  the  effect  of  that  ?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  ;  "  once  at  least.  He  met  me  in  the 
village  street ;  and  he  sat  down  beside  me  on  a  large  stone, 
and  talked  with  me.  I  could  not  answer  him,  but  I  felt  all 
he  said.  And  when  he  left  me,  I  ran  home  as  fast  as  I 
could,  hid  myself  in  the  bushes  and  wept,  and,  I  believe, 
tried  to  pray.  That  excellent  pastor,  however,  was  not 
brought  into  frequent  or  intimate  contact  with  us  ;  and  we 
were  under  too  little  home-influence  to  render  his  occasional 
admonitions  of  much  avail.  Was  there  no  one  else,  Nellie, 
to  talk  to  you,  instruct  you,  and  help  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  ;  "  there  was  one  to  whom  I  owe  more, 
not  only  in  a  religious  sense,  but  in  all  good  respects,  than 
to  any  other  person  on  earth.  You  have  heard  me  speak 
of  Mrs.  Hughes — Cousin  Hetty,  I  call  her  ?" 

"  The  wife  of  the  tanner,  who  has  become  rich,  and  made 
the  tannery  such  a  pretty  place  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  The  little  girl,  who  has  been  a  sort  of  school-mate  and 
play-fellow  of  my  Robert,  is  their  child,  is  she  not  ?" 

"  Yes.  Mrs.  Hughes  was  my  Sunday-school  teacher.  I 
took  a  great  fancy  to  her  "from  the  first,  and  bhe  always  en- 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  407 

couraged  me  in  it.  She  has  been  my  friend  and  counselor ; 
and  her  piety,  and  that  of  her  husband,  first  led  ine  to  seri- 
ous thoughts  on  religious  subjects.  I  hardly  know  how  it 
was ;  a  word  now  and  then  spoken  to  me,  or  said  in  my 
presence,  led  me  to  think.  I  soon  discovered,  though  I  had 
the  vanity  to  suppose  myself  very  good,  that  they  had  some 
sort  of  goodness  that  I  had  not.  This  puzzled  me  for  a 
good  while.  I  read  the  Bible  a  great  deal ;  I  listened  atten- 
tively to  Mr.  Poole's  sermons  ;  and  at  last  I  learned  that  the 
root  and  source  of  their  goodness  was — a  simple,  child-like 
trust  in  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  And  that,  Robert,"  she 
concluded,  by  saying,  "  is  just  what  you  must  have  to  be 
good  and  happy." 

"  Trust  in  the  Saviour  !"  he  repeated,  deliberately.  "  Such 
as  you  are,  Nellie,  may  trust  Him.  But  not  I.  He  must 
repel  me.  I  have  been  reading  His  life.  How  pure  and 
exalted  His  character  !  How  broad,  deep,  searching,  and 
comprehensive  His  expositions  of  duty  !  How  peremptory 
his  commandments !  No,  Nellie,  lovely  and  lovable  as 
Jesus  Christ  is,  He  can  not  receive  such  an  one  as  me.  My 
heart  is  sometimes  in  an  agony  !"  Tears  rolled  down  his 
cheeks.  Helen  wept  with  him. 

"  How  long  have  you  felt  as  you  do  now,  Robert  ?" 
"  Do  you  remember,"  he  answered,  "  the  sermon  of  the 
French  colporteur  in  the  little  thatched-cottage  in  the  village 

of  E ?      You   insisted   upon   spending    Sunday   there 

rather  than  travel  on  that  day,  though  Theresa  and  I  op- 
posed it,  the  inn  was  so  uncomfortable.  On  that  Sunday. 
while  Theresa  amused  herself  by  attending  mass  in  the 
chapel,  you  dragged  me  to  that  little  conventicle  of  peasant 
Protestant;:  an<i  :  Romanists.  Do  you  remember  ?" 


408  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

"  Yes  ;  that  was  a  year  ago." 

"  Yes ;  and  since  that  day  I  have  never  known  what  peace 
was." 

"  Dear  Robert,  how  strange  that  I  never  suspected  your 
state  of  mind.  It  only  proves  how  bad  and  frivolous  I  am. 
Had  I  been  half  as  intent  in  doing  God  service,  as  I  have 
been  in  sight-seeing  and  self-gratification — " 

"  You  would  not  have  done  me  half  the  good  you  have," 
interrupted  Robert.  "  Had  you  betrayed  any  set  purpose  to 
convert  me,  you  would  at  once  have  provoked  the  suspicion 
that  you  were  acting  for  the  sake  of  effect.  You  would 
have  put  me  into  an  attitude  of  resistance,  and  afforded  me 
the  opportunity  my  wicked  heart  desired,  to  doubt  the  reality 
of  Divine  grace  in  the  formation  of  your  character." 

Helen  shook  her  head  doubtfully,  and  asked  him  to  state 
the  particular  views  and  feelings  which  had  affected  him. 

"  Let  me  begin  at  the  beginning,"  he  said.  "  I  have  told 
you  how  mother's  prayer  affected  me  ;  and  how  Mr.  Poole, 
once  at  least,  touched  a  tender  chord  in  my  heart.  But  I 
was  sent  to  boarding-school,  became  the  associate  of  wild 
and  thoughtless  boys,  and  never  had  another  serious  thought 
that  I  remember  till  about  a  year  before  my  marriage.  Ac- 
cidentally, in  the  city  of  New  York,  I  made  the  acquaintance 
of  a  young  girl,  more  like  you  in  character,  Nellie,  than 
any  one  I  ever  knew,  except  that  she  was  not  so  decidedly 
religious,  I  think.  Her  piety  was  simple  and  artless,  often 
expressing  itself  in  pretty  sentiments,  unconsciously  dis- 
covered in  words  of  deeper  meaning  than  the  superficial 
would  discover.  This  it  was  that  attracted  me  toward 
her.  She  fascinated  me—  me  a  worldly  young  man,  she  an 
unsophisticated  girl.  I  never  fully  understood  how  ii  \vas. 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  409 

except  that  I  felt  and  admired  in  her  the  beauty  of  a  Chris- 
tian and  child-like  faith  and  practice.  She,  gay  and  full  of 
mirth,  never,  I  am  sure,  suspected  how  deeply  her  unde- 
signed words  and  acts  of  piety  affected  my  heart  and  con- 
science. I  used  to  go  to  see  her  and  talk  with  her,  as  often 
as  I  could  without  exciting  remark ;  for  she  belonged  to 
the  lower  walks  of  life,  though  herself  refined  and  intelli- 
gent. I  thought  if  I  could  only  be  brought  permanently 
under  the  influence  of  such  a  character  as  her's,  I  might  be- 
come a  Christian." 

"  No  human  being  could  make  you  that !"  interposed 
Helen. 

"  No.  I  know  that  now.  But  to  proceed  with  my  story : 
I  was  married  and  came  to  Europe,  and  after  my  return 
could  find  no  trace  of  Hetty — for  her  name  was  Hetty,  too— 
her  father  had  died,  she  disappeared,  no  one  knew  where, 
and  from  that  day  to  this  I  have  neither  seen  nor  heard  of 
her.  Drawn  into  the  whirl  of  gay  and  fashionable  life,  re- 
ligious duties  and  interests  have  been  expelled  from  my 
thoughts.  An  occasional  expression  in  Robert's  letters  of 
late  years — God  bless  you,  Nellie,  for  what  you  have  done 
for  rny  boy  ! — has  made  me  at  times  a  little  meditative;  but 
it  is  to  you,  Nellie-,  that  I  must  attribute  rny  actual  re-awak- 
ening to  concern  for  mv  immortal  \vt-lfarr.  I  never  knew 
you  but  as  a  good,  pivtiy  i-hild,  till  you  became  our  travel- 
ing companion.  Since  I  have  known  and  loved  you,  Nellie, 
I  have  been  compelled  to  serious  reflection.  The  sermons 
wo  heard  together  in  London,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  from 
those  earnest  preachers  of  the  Kirk,  gave  lone  and  direction 
u>  my  thoughts.  But  that  sermon  of  the  colporteur  in 

E reached  my  heart.     What  was  purely  intellectual 

18 


410  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

before  has  since  become  a  matter  of  experience,  of  feeling. 
The  intensity  of  my  distress  has  gradually  increased,  and  is 
sometimes  acute  beyond  my  power  to  tell.  The  words  of 
the  Bible  burn  into  my  soul.  Oh,  Nellie,  how  bitter,  how 
awful  is  sin  !  Once,  accidentally,  I  took  up  a  life  of  the 
missionary  Brainard,  and  happened  to  turn  to  the  narration 
of  his  fearful  convictions  of  guilt.  I  thought  at  the  time 
the  whole  thing  was  farcically  exaggerated,  and  I  smiled  at 
the  simplicity  of  the  writer  who  could  venture  to  publish 
such  crude  absurdities.  But  now  I  know  it  was  true.  I 
understand  it.  And  I  understand  how  a  stern,  brave  Roman 
hero,  one  moment  about  to  take  his  own  life  to  save  his 
honor,  could  the  next  moment,  trembling  and  agitated,  fall 
down  at  the  feet  of  his  Jewish  prisoners,  and  cry  out  in  an- 
guish, '  Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?' " 

"  Remember,  dear  Robert,"  Helen  interrupted  him  to  say, 
"  what  answer  the  jailor's  question  received.  '  Believe  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved,  and  thy 
house.'  That  very  night,  Robert,  yes,  on  the  instant,  he 
complied,  and  with  joy  received  the  sacrament  of  baptism. 
You  may  believe  and  rejoice  now." 

"Come,  you  are  growing  melancholy  together,"  exclaimed 
Theresa,  who  had  approached  them  unobserved.  "  I  shall 
have  two  moping  relatives,  instead  of  one,  at  this  rate." 

"  Oh  !  Theresa,"  exclaimed  Helen,  jumping  up,  and  lead- 
ing her  away,  "  I  want  to  show  you  how  beautifully  the 
water  sparkles  in  this  bright  sunlight."  She  led  her  to  the 
stern  of  the  vessel,  and  made  her  promise  not  to  interfere 
with  Robert,  but  leave  him  to  her  management. 

Many  were  the  conferences  between  the  brother  and  sister 
on  that  homeward  voyage.  Theresa  looked  on  in  amaze- 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  411 

ment.  "Bob  reading  the  Bible  and  Nellie  preaching  to 
him,"  was  beyond  her  comprehension.  But  she  knew  that 
her  husband's  distress  of  mind  was  of  no  ordinary  kind,  and 
that  Nellie's  words  allayed  it ;  and  she  kept  her  promise, 
save  for  a  surprised  ejaculation  now  and  then. 

They  tarried  in  New  York  but  one  night.  How  beautiful 
Truro  appeared  even  in  its  winter  dress.  Could  it  be  more 
than  four  years  since  Helen  had  last  seen  it  ?  She  shed  so 
many  joyful  tears  at  the  sight  of  the  old  place,  that  she 
hardly  had  more  to  weep  on  her  dear  mother's  bosom. 

"  You  shall  never  leave  us  again,  dear  Nellie.  There  has 
been  no  sunlight  here  since  you  went,"  said  her  father,  affec- 
tionately. 

"  Where  is  our  Robert  ?"  asked  Theresa,  throwing  herself 
into  the  easy  embrace  of  a  large  chair. 

"  He  is  in  the  green-house ;  he  can  not  know  of  your  ar- 
rival," was  the  answer. 

"  Won't  you  call  him,  Bob  ?"  she  said  to  her  husband. 

He  crossed  to  the  dining-room  and  entered  the  green- 
house. He  heard  voices  at  the  other  end.  He  made  no 
noise,  that  ho  might  surprise  his  r>on.  Suddenly  he  stood 
still,  transfixed  with  surprise.  Whom  did  he  see?  What 
recollection  came  back  so  vividly  ?  Surely,  it  was  his  old 
friend,  the  flower  girl,  talking  to  his  own  son,  just  as  she  used 
to  to  himself ! 

"  Hetty,"  said  young  Robert  Lee,  "  what  do  you  like  the 
flowers  most  for  ?" 

"  For  what  they  speak  of  God  aud  Heaven." 

"Hetty,"  said  young  Robert,  again "Hetty  HUH" 

cried  his  father,  stepping  up  behind  him  and  facing  her. 


412  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

"  Why,  father  !"  exclaimed  Robert,  springing  round.  And 
Hetty,  startled,  dropped  the  japonica  she  had  just  picked 
from  the  tree  that  overshadowed  her. 

"  My  dear  son,"  said  his  father,  pressing  him  for  an  instant 
in  his  arms.  "  But  who  is  this  ?"  he  quickly  added.  "  You 
called  her  Hetty—" 

"  Hetty  Hughes,  father  ;  you  Ve  often  heard  me  speak 
of  her." 

"  Hetty  Hughes  —  and  so  like  Hetty  Hill,"  he  said  mus- 


"My  mother  was  Hetty  Hill,  sir,"  she  said,  looking  up, 
smiling. 

"  Is  it  possible  !"  He  could  hardly  recover  from  his  sur- 
prise ;  but  finding  the  young  people's  curiosity  excited,  he 
commanded  himself,  and  said,  playfully,  "  Hetty  Hill's 
daughter  must  let  me  kiss  her.  Come,"  he  added  to 
Robert,  "  your  mother  demands  your  welcome,  sir." 

"  Have  you  brought  aunt  Nellie,  too  ?"  eagerly  inquired 
Robert. 

"  Yes,  indeed.  And  you,  Miss  Hetty  Hill  —  Hughes,  I 
mean,  must  come  and  be  introduced  to  her." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  she,  laughing,  but  taking  his  offered 
arm,  "  we  have  known  each  other  as  long  as  I  can  re- 
member." 

"Nevertheless,  she  does  not  know  you  in  the  character 
in  which  I  shall  introduce  you."  And  so  saying,  he  escort- 
ed her,  puzzled  enough,  into  the  oak-room. 

u  Come,  Nellie,"  said  her  brother,  the  morning  after  their 
arrival,  "  you  must  take  me  to  see  your  old  friend  and  mine, 
Mrs.  Hughes." 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  413 

"You  must  consent  to  the  short  cut  then,  by  the 
lots  and  over  the  fences "  Helen  replied,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation 

"  Why  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Because  I  will  not  go  any  other  way,"  she  answered. 

"  You  must  have  your  will  then,  I  suppose."  Man-like, 
he  never  surmised  that  Nellie  might  dread  meeting  in  the 
street  some  one  whom  she  would  rather  see  for  the  first  time 
elsewhere. 

Mrs.  Hughes  had  heard  of  the  arrival :  but,  not  expecting 
her  house  to  be  invaded  by  the  back-door,  was  sitting  in  the 
dining-room,  looking  out  of  the  window  from  time  to  time, 
to  see  if  Helen  were  not  tripping  up  the  garden  walk.  Helen 
smuggled  Robert  into  the  parlor,  opened  the  dining-room 
door  softly,  and  had  her  arms  around  Mrs.  Hughes'  neck,  be- 
fore the  latter  was  aware  of  her  presence. 

"  Cousin  Hetty,"  asked  Helen,  after  their  first  affectionate 
greetings  were  over,  "  why  did  you  never  tell  me  that  you 
knew  my  brother  Robert  ?"  The  question  was  asked  very 
earnestly,  and  tock  Mrs.  Hughes  by  surprise. 

"  Why — "  she  stammered  a  little,  "  are  you  sure  I  never 
told  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed.  You  never  did.  And  he  remembers  you 
so  well  and  with  so  much  intent." 

u  Does  he  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hughes,  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. 

u  Yes,  indeed,  he  does  ;  and  he  is  in  the  other  room  now, 
crazy  to  see  you.  Come — " 

"  In  the  other  room  ?"  said  Mrs.  Hughes,  as  if  she  could 
not  credit  the  words.  "  Robert  Lee  in  the  other  room,  and 
wants  to  see  me  !" 


414  THE     LOST     FOUND. 

"  Yes  ;  and  will  be  tired  waiting.  Cousin  Hetty,  what  is 
the  matter  with  you  ?  You  seem  to  be  completely  mystified. 
My  brother  Robert,  who  calls  you  his  old  friend,  is  in  the 
other  room,  and  if  you  do  not  go  quickly  to  see  him,  he  will 
come  in  here  to  find  you." 

"  Oh  !  he  must  not  come  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Hughes,  in- 
stantly rising,  and  casting  a  fidgety  look  around  at  the  vari- 
ous evidences  of  housewifery  that  disordered  the  room. 
"  But  wait  a  minute,  Nellie.  Is  my  cap  just  right  ?"  She 
turned  to  the  glass,  and  took  a  general  survey  of  her  dress, 
picking  off  little  shreds  of  thread  here  and  there. 

"  Yes,  Cousin  Hetty,  your  cap  is  right,  and  very  becoming, 
too.  How  young  and  pretty  you  look  to-day  with  that 
bright  color  in  your  cheeks.  Come,"  and  she  hurried  her 
out  of  the  dining-room  and  into  the  parlor. 

Robert  Lee  would  not  have  said,  as  Helen  did,  that  Hetty 
Hughes  looked  young,  though  he  would  have  confessed  to 
her  prettiness.  Could  that  be  Hetty  Hill,  the  little,  slender, 
rosy  flower-girl  ?  now  a  rather  stout,  dumpling  figure  of  a 
woman  !  He  could  not  repress  a  smile.  She,  too,  afterward 
smiled  at  her  own  astonishment,  when  Robert  Lee  was  pre- 
sented to  her  in  the  person  of  a  rather  elderly  gentleman. 
Whatever  embarrassment  she  had  felt  in  the  expectation  of 
seeing  him,  all  vanished  at  tho  actual  sight  of  him.  He  was 
not  the  Robert  Lee  she  had  known  as  a  gay,  handsome,  fas- 
cinating young  man.  This  Robert  Lee,  the  gentlemanly, 
sedate  man,  with  a  generous  sprinkling  of  gray  hairs  on  his 
head,  was  quite  a  new  acquaintance. 

Long  and  pleasant  was  their  talk  of  the  old  time.  Robert 
was  touched  at  the  account  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Hill,  the 
rare  old  philosopher,  as  he  had  always  called  him.  Mr.  Lee 


THE     LOST     FOUND.  416 

and  Mrs.  Hughes  were  mutually  charmed  with  each  other, 
and  came  nearer  falling  in  love  with  each  other  than  when 
they  were  young. 

Astonished,  indeed,  was  Cousin  Hetty,  when  Helen  after- 
ward told  her  how  her  religious  influence  had  been  felt  by 
Robert,  at  a  time,  too,  when  she  hardly  esteemed  herself  a 
real  Christian. 


XLII. 


rang*   §l0$s0m$   snb    flptle. 


"Few  rightly  estimate  the  worth 
Of  joys  that  spring  and  fade  on  earth ; 
They  are  not  weeds  we  should  despise, 
They  are  not  fruits  of  Paradise ; 
But  wild-flowers  in  the  pilgrim's  way, 
That  cheer,  yet  not  protract  his  stay  ; 
Which  he  dare  not  too  fondly  clasp, 
Lest  they  should  perish  in  his  grasp ; 
And  yet  may  view  and  wisely  love, 
As  proofs  and  types  of  joys  above." 

ANOSTJIOTTB. 


T\REARY  seemed  Bedminster  Parsonage,  when  Perry 
-*-'  Seymour  first  took  possession  of  it.  Drearier  for  the 
sudden  and  violent  contrast  with  Truro,  where  a  perpetual 
succession  of  events,  a  numerous  and  lively  family,  and  what- 
ever could  gratify  the  eye,  or  please  the  taste,  contributed 
both  to  excitement  and  enjoyment.  Here  were  only  solitude 
and  silence.  Yet  the  parsonage  intoned  with  his  present 
state  of  mind.  He  liked  it.  He  fancied  especially  the  old 
school-room  and  dormitories.  Their  stripped,  desolate  ap- 
pearance, and  the  hollow  echoing  of  his  footsteps  as  he  paced 
the  uncarpeted  floors,  fell  in  with  and  seemed  an  outward  re- 
flection of  his  own  soul,  barren  of  every  hope  that  had 
beautified  and  naked  in  its  poverty  of  all  that  could  impart 
pleasure. 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  417 

The  other  part  of  the  house  retained  the  furniture  which 
had  adorned  it  in  Mr.  Poole's  day.  It  was  old  now  and 
shabby,  but  it  answered  his  purposes.  A  woman  of  all 
work,  who  was  willing  to  serve  him  under  the  respectable 
name  of  housekeeper,  completed  his  domestic  establish- 
ment. 

We  can  get  used  to  some  things ;  and  Perry  got  used  to 
his  way  of  life.  It  had  its  advantages.  He  could  study 
without  interruption  ;  devote  himself  to  pastoral  labors  ;  and 
save  money,  by  the  economy  of  his  housekeeping,  for  the 
mutual  benefit  of  his  mother  and  his  library.  So  wedded 
had  he  become  to  the  habits  of  a  recluse,  that  when  Mr. 
Sickles,  one  bright  spring  day,  made  his  appearance  at  the 
parsonage,  and  announced  his  intention  of  staying  there 
several  days,  Perry  was  almost  sorry  to  see  him  ;  and  when 
Mr.  Sickles  insisted  upon  painting  the  house,  transforming 
the  unsightly  school-room  into  a  library,  planting  out  new 
trees,  and  renewing  the  old  flower-borders,  Perry  was  really 
annoyed  ;  ho  would  rather  have  preserved  the  comfortless 
air  around  and  within  the  habitation  as  congenial  with  his 
own  forlorn  humor. 

"  Flowers !"  he  exclaimed,  with  disdain,  as  Mr.  Sickles 
stood  with  hoe  in  hand  directing  and  assisting  in  their 
arrangement,  "what  use,  what  propriety  in  putting  them 
here  ?" 

Mr.  Sickles  made  no  direct  reply,  but  repeated,  as  if  to 
himself  a  pretty  version  of  Ruckhart's  lines : 

r  The  flowers  will  tell  to  thee 

A  sacred  mystic  story ; 
How  moistened  human  dust 
Can  wear  celestial  glory. 


418  ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLB. 

On  thousand  moistened  stems, 

The  loved  inscription's  given, 
'  How  beautiful  is  earth 

"When  it  can  image  Heaven.'  " 

•  Mr.  Sickles  would  have  his  own  way.  He  made  many 
visits  to  Cedarville  in  the  course  of  the  spring  and  summer, 
and  more  than  restored  Bedminster  Parsonage  to  its  former 
beauty.  The  school-room  became  a  grand  library,  with  point- 
ed windows  and  alcoves  and  shelves  groaning  with  books 
that  Perry  never  bought.  The  outside  appearance  of  the 
primitive  edifice  was  improved  by  the  addition  of  buttresses, 
between  the  pointed  windows,  a  deep  cornice  and  a  heavy 
parapet.  As  seen  through  the  trees  from  the  street,  it  might 
be  taken  or  mistaken  for  a  Moorish  castle.  The  length  of 
the  school-room  allowed  space  for  a  smaller  study  beside  the 
library ;  and  this  study  opened  by  long  glass  doors  into  a 
green-house.  When  this  piece  of  extravagance  was  first 
projected,  Perry  strenuously  objected. 

"  Of  what  possible  use  is  a  green-house  to  me  ?"  he  asked, 
"  And  who  is  there  to  appreciate  or  care  for  these  rare  and 
beautiful  flowers  ?" 

"  I  want  them  for  my  own  gratification,"  answered  Uncle 
Joshua.  "  I  may  come  and  live  with  you  yet ;  if  I  can  ever 
afford  to  give  up  business." 

The  long  dormitory  over  the  school-room,  was  changed 
into  a  suit  of  apartments,  bed-room,  boudoir,  dressing  and 
bathing  rooms.  These  Mr.  Sickles  claimed  as  his  own,  with  a 
jocose  hint  that  any  future  Mrs.  Seymour  might  have  them 
for  the  asking.  The  up-stairs  parlor,  that  had  been  converted 
into  a  dormitory,  was  reverted  to  its  original  use  and  newly 
and  Vmdsomely  furnished  ;  and  the  old  study  down  stairs 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  419 

was  changed  into  a  bed-room.  At  last  the  hammering  and 
painting  and  papering,  that  had  interrupted  Perry's  studies 
and  tried  his  patience,  were  brought  to  an  end  ;  and  Perry 
found  himself  against  his  will,  the  possessor  of  a  parsonage 
replete  with  comfort,  enriched  with  whatever  could  gratify 
the  most  refined  taste.  He  smiled  at  the  folly  of  wasting  so 
much  money  and  pains,  and  thought  that  he  would  have  felt 
more  comfortable  and  even  happier  if  the  place  had  been 
left  in  tbe  wretched  condition  in  which  he  found  it.  But 
Mr.  Sickles  understood  the  philosophy  of  the  human  mind 
and  heart  better  than  Perry  did.  The  cheerful  aspect  of  his 
surroundings  contributed  to  a  cheerful  spirit.  The  birds  and 
the  flowers  of  the  green-house  were  society,  something  to 
think  of,  care  for  and  even  talk  to,  forming  in  some  sort  a 
domestic  circle :  and  these  and  the  garden  gave  him  employ- 
ment. They  prevented  his  becoming  dull  and  listless,  indif- 
ferent to  external  appearances,  prosaic  and  commonplace 
in  his  characteristics.  They  were  accessories  at  least  to  the 
preservation  of  the  freshness,  buoyancy  and  refinement  of  his 
character. 

Perry,  nevertheless,  became  more  and  more  enamored  of 
his  quiet  and  secluded  life.  He  believed  himself  to  have 
grown  into  the  tastes  and  habits  of  a  bachelor  life  and 
looked  forward  to  no  change  in  that  regard.  During  the 
first  year  he  called  incessantly  at  the  Tannery  to  hear  news 
of  Helen,  always  careful  to  say  nothing  that  might  be  con- 
strued into  an  intended  message  for  her.  Mrs.  Hughes  was 
equally  guarded.  She  repeated  nothing  of  Helen's  letters 
which  might  appeal1,  however  remotely,  to  be  designed  for 
him.  He  heard  only  absolute  facts ;  where  she  was,  how 
phf  was  and  how  happy  she  was.  When  Helen  and  he 


420  ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE. 

were  first  rudely  separated,  he  cherished  the  conviction  that 
it  was  only  for  a  time ;  they  would  be  true  to  each  other, 
and  their  brightest  visions  should  yet  be  realized.  But  as 
month  after  month  passed,  these  dreams  became  more  faint. 
He  knew  how  many  things  would  conspire  to  banish  him 
from  her  remembrance,  how  few  to  keep  him  in  mind. 
What  Helen  could  not  have  done  in  reference  to  him,  he  was 
guilty  of  in  regard  to  her — he  doubted  her  constancy.  By 
degrees  he  grew  into  the  belief  that  she  was  lost  to  him.  He 
learned  to  look  upon  it  as  a  fixed  fact — to  become  reconciled 
to  it — and  to  school  himself  into  the  enjoyment  of  a  single, 
solitary  life.  He  gave  his  heart  to  his  pastoral  work,  and  of 
the  blight  of  his  earthly  desires,  could  say,  with  the  Christian 
poet, 

"Come,  Disappointment;  come! 
Though  Fancy  flies  away 
Before  thy  hollow  tread, 
Yet  meditation,  in  her  cell, 
Hears,  with  faint  eye,  the  lingering  knell, 
That  tells  her  hopes  are  dead  : 
And  though  the  tear 
By  chance  appear, 
Yet  she  can  smile  and  say,  my  all  was  not  laid  here." 

The  first  intimation  Mr.  Seymour  had  of  the  return  of  the 
travelers  to  Truro,  was  a  call  from  Mr.  Lee  and  Robert,  the 
day  after  their  arrival.  Robert  was  astonished  at  the  beauty 
of  the  external  appearance  and  simple  el'gance  and  comfort 
of  the  internal  arrangements  of  Bedminster  Parsonage.  He 
wondered  less  when  he  learned  Mr.  Sickles's  agency  in  the 
matter.  Mr.  Seymour  received  his  visitors  with  the  slightest 
degree  of  embarrassment,  that  gave  place,  almost  before  ob- 
served, to  a  calm,  pleasant  gravity  and  self-possession.  He 


8BANOE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  421 

asked  after  t;  Miss  Lee"  without  revealing  by  look  or  tone 
any  other  feeling  than  that  of  polite  and  friendly  interest. 
Only  once  di<l  he  betray  emotion,  and  that  was  when  some 
expressions  of  Robert  intimated  the  great  and  happy  religious 
change  which  his  character  and  feelings  had  undergone. 
And  when  his  visitors,  on  withdrawing,  invited  him  to  dine 
with  the  family  at  Truro  that  afternoon,  however  surprised  he 
may  have  been,  he  evinced  only  a  polite  readiness  to  accept. 

"That  man  has  the  manners  of  a  prince,"  exclaimed 
Robert,  as  they  left  the  house. 

"  He  is  no  ordinary  character,"  answered  his  father. 

"  We  have  looked  down  upon  him,"  continued  Robert ; 
"  but  I  almost  question  whether  it  would  not  be  condescen- 
sion on  his  part  to  accept  of  an  alliance  with  such  a  com- 
monplace family  as  ours." 

"  We  made  a  grand  mistake,"  was  Mr.  Lee's  brief  re- 
sponse. 

Helen  anticipated  the  pastor's  visit  with  a  bounding  heart; 
but  when  he  came  her  joy  was  repressed.  He  was  certainly 
much  changed.  The  lithe  form  of  youth  had  passed,  or 
was  passing -away,  and  increasing  stoutness  gave  him  the 
appearance  of  a  more  majestic  height.  His  forehead,  ap- 
parently, had  spread  into  more  intellectual  amplitude.  Gray 
hairs,  too,  were  visible  among  the  deep  brown  locks.  He 
looked  as  if  he  might  be  thirty-five  years  of  age,  though,  in 
reality,  he  was  only  twenty-eight.  Still  greater  was  the 
change  in  his  manners.  He  was  grave,  dignified,  command- 
ing. There  was  still  the  air  of  ingenuous  frankness,  good- 
humor,  and  simplicity  that  hail  always  characterized  him  ; 
but  there  was,  too,  an  air  of  self-reliance,  determined  pur- 
pose, and  entire  independence  of  all  the  little  issues  of  life, 


422  ORANGE     BLO88OM8     AND     MYRTLE. 

which  were  the  growth  of  the  years  of  experience  which 
had  passed  since  last  she  saw  him.  To  her,  as  to  all,  he 
was  self-possessed,  polite,  friendly ;  but  that  was  all.  His 
eyes  fixed  themselves  steadily  and  penetratingly  upon  her's, 
for  a  single  second,  at  the  first  meeting — whatever  they  read 
in  the  clear  blue  depths  of  her  own,  she  could  only  guess  by 
an  expression  of  satisfaction  that  lighted  up  his  face.  But 
the  expression  passed  away,  and  so  far  as  outward  indications 
went,  he  was  no  more  conscious  of  or  affected  by  her  pres- 
ence than  if  she  were  but  an  esteemed  friend. 

Mr.  Seymour  conversed  with  all  the  old  sparkling  vivacity 
for  which  he  had  been  remarkable  ;  but  there  was  a  deeper 
richness  and  mellowness  of  sentiment,  and  a  bolder  grasp 
of  thought.  Even  Theresa  felt  the  fascination  of  his  man- 
ners and  conversation ;  and  acknowledged  that  there  was 
something  extraordinary  about  the  man  which  impressed  her 
with  respect,  and  overawed  her  into  admiration. 

Helen,  too,  had  changed  during  these  years.  She  looked 
no  older,  indeed,  at  least  at  the  first  glance,  now  that  she  was 
twenty-five,  than  she  did  when  eighteen  ;  and  she  was  even 
more  beautiful  than  then.  But  her  face  showed  thought, 
feeling,  experience.  She  was  not  always  laughing,  as  she 
once  was ;  though  seldom  grave,  never  sad,  there  was  a 
quietness  of  manner  and  a  habit  of  polite  interest  concealing 
the  play  of  deeper  emotions,  that  only  associations  with  the 
world,  in  its  most  mannerly  circles,  can  impart.  If  she  was 
repelled  by  what  seemed  almost  coldness  and  indifference  in 
Mr.  Seymour,  she  did  not  know  how  much  his  manner  was 
caused  by  her  own  easy  and  cordial  reception  of  him,  which 
would  not  let  him  see  whether  there  were  warmer  senti- 
ments in  her  heart  or  not. 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  423 

Every  day  Helen  learned  to  esteem  the  pastor  more  and 
more,  for  his  work's  sate,  at  least,  if  not  for  his  own.  Cedar- 
ville  Church  smiled  under  the  Divine  blessing ;  and  Cedar- 
ville  people  were  loud  in  their  praises  of  the  godly  minister 
through  whom  the  blessing  came.  The  second  day  after 
her  arrival,  she  made  a  discovery  that  rejoiced  her  heart, 
and  brought  to  her  remembrance  a  prayer  once  offered  in  a 
fervent  spirit.  She  was  riding  through  the  village  on  horse- 
back, and  observing  a  smoke  rising  from  Steve  Ball's  smithy, 
she  turned  her  horse  up  to  the  door  and  looked  in.  There 
was  Steve,  with  ruddy  cheeks,  working  away  at  his  bellows. 
None  but  a  sober  man  could  work  so  energetically.  Bad 
habits  at  least  were  reformed.  But  she  had  pleasanter  news 
than  this  to  learn.  Steve  fairly  shouted  when  he  saw  her ; 
and  she  would  have  shaken  the  honest  hand  that  was  ex- 
tended to  her,  if  it  had  been  twice  as  black  as  it  was. 

"  Do  you  go  to  church,  now-a-days,  Mn  Ball  ?"  asked 
Helen,  after  the  usual  questions  about  his  family. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Helen  ;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  be  glad  to 
learn  that  such  a  wicked  critter  as  I  was  has  got  grace,  as  I 
hope  I  have.  Yes,  I  've  jined  the  church,  Miss  Helen.  And 
the  very  day  I  jined  it,  poor  Tim  Whittaker  fell  dead  in  a 
drunken  fit" — tears  came  into  his  eyes,  and  he  wiped  them 
off  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  making  a  long,  white  streak 
on  his  blackened  face—"  and  Tim,  Miss  Heleu,  were  n't  so 
bad  a  man  as  I  was.  It 's  all  owing,  humanly,  Miss  H.-l.-n, 
to  our  minister.  He  would  n't  leave  me  be,  nor  Tim  neither. 
He  kept  coming  to  see  us,  and  talking  to  us,  and  kind  of 
winning  us  over.  But  Tim  got  tired  at  last,  and  put  him 
off.  But  I — I  don't  know  how  it  was,  if  't  was  n't  Divine 
grace,  but  I  could  n't  shut  up  my  heart  ag'in  him.  He  got 


424  ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLB. 

hold  of  me  with  a  tight  grip,  Miss  Helen.     I  never  did  see 
such  a  man — not  even  Mr.  Poole  !" 

That  was  the  acme  of  Steve  Ball's  praise.  To  excel  Mr. 
Poole  was  just  one  step  beyond  perfection. 

Slowly  and  imperceptibly  the  distance  between  Helen  and 
her  pastor  wore  away.  Love  unconquered  still  bound  their 
hearts  and  vindicated  its  claims.  To  her  he  became  what  he 
used  to  be ;  she  had  always  been  the  same  to  him.  It  was 
"  Perry"  and  "  Nellie"  as  of  old.  His  tenderness  and  child-like 
familiarity  to  her  were  the  more  delightful,  because  so  unlike 
his  manner  toward  others.  To  others  there  was  a  courteous 
distance,  often  assuming  the  air  of  the  triumph  of  a  superior 
mind  over  a  want  of  due  appreciation ;  but  to  her,  he  was 
like  Perry  the  school-boy,  Perry  the  youth,  and  Perry  the 
young  minister. 

"  Father,"  said  young  Robert  Lee,  one  day,  "  I  wish  to  be 
married." 

"  Married  !  why  you  are  but  a  boy !" 

"I  am  almost  nineteen,"  he  answered,  with  offended 
pride. 

"  Almost  nineteen  1  And  whom,  pray,  do  you  wish 
to  marry  ?  Miss  Brown,  I  suppose,  since  you  are  so  ven 
erable." 

"  I  wish  to  marry  Hetty  Hughes,"  he  answered  with, 
dignity. 

"  And  she  is  how  old — twelve  ?" 

"  She  is  almost  eighteen,  father,"  he  answered,  smiling  in 
Bpite  of  his  vexation.  "  And,  father,"  he  continued,  "  we  in- 
tend to  live  here,  when  we  are  married,  with  grand  father 
and  grand  mother,  because  they  want  us — for  they  will  be 
lonely  when  Aunt  Nellie  goes  to  the  parsonage,  and  be- 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  425 

cause  Hetty's  father  and  mother — you  know  she  is  their  only 
child — are  not  willing  that  she  should  go  f?ir  from  them." 

"But  what  will  you  do  here,"  asked  liis  father,  with  ° 
seriousness  that  he  had  not  shown  before,  "  live  in  idleness  ? 
I  shall  have  to  quote  to  you  the  saying  of  an  old  writer,  'Be 
ashamed  of  idleness,  as  thou  ail  a  man,  hut  tremble  at  it,  as 
thou  art  a  Christian.'  " 

"  Grandfather  says  I  may  superintend  the  farming.  He 
is  too  old  now." 

"  Indeed !  You  and  your  grandfather,  it  seems,  have 
talked  it  all  over  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  we  have.  We  are  confidential  friends.  Don't 
you  know  that  ?"  he  replied,  laughing. 

"  Well,  my  son,"  said  his  father,  kindly  and  gravely,  "  I 
will  think  more  of  this  matter." 

"How  absurd,  Bob!"  exclaimed  Theresa,  when  young 
Bobert  had  left  the  room.  She  had  listened  to  the  conver- 
sation in  amazed  and  provoked  silence.  "  You  certainly 
would  not  permit  those  children  to  be  married.  And  as  for 
Robert,  what  does  he  know  of  the  world  ?" 

"As  much  as  he  ever  will,  I  hope,"  her  husband  re- 
plied. 

"But  what  will  the  world  say,  if  our  son  marries  the 
daughter  of  a  man  who  was  once  a  tanner  ?"  asked  Theresa, 
with  anxiety. 

"They  will  say  a  great  deal,  probably,"  her  husband 
rejoined.  "But  they  can  say  nothing  that  will  subtract 
one  iota  from  the  happiness  of  our  son  in  having  such  a 
wife." 

"  Well,  I  am  decidedly  opposed  to  it !"  said  Theresa, 
angrily 


426  ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE. 

"  I  am  as  decidedly  disposed  to  it,"  he  answered  mildly. 

"  How  obstinate  and  perverse  you  are,"  she  retorted,  im- 
patiently. "  Your  religion  has  spoiled  you.  You  used  to  do 
every  thing  to  please  me.  Now  you  only  care  to  please 
yourself,"  and  some  angry  tears  showed  how  regretful  she 
was  at  his  piety. 

"  Dear  wife,  you  will  find  me  more  ready  than  ever  to 
please  you,  in  every  thing  that  is  right,"  he  said,  emphasiz- 
ing the  last  word. 

"  Right !  You  are  always  talking  about  what  is  right  1 
and  I  am  sure  you  are  not  right  now,  if  you  mean  to  let 
Robert  marry  this  Hetty  Hughes  !" 

"  Come,  come,"  said  old  Mr.  Lee,  who  had  entered  the 
room  just  in  time  to  hear  the  last  remark  ;  "  we  have  had 
enough  in  our  family  of  experiments  on  loving  hearts. 
There  is  no  use  of  standing  between  young  people  who 
fancy  each  other.  Do  not  try  it  over  again. 

"  Nellie,  when  do  you  expect  to  gladden  Bedminster  Par- 
sonage with  your  presence  ?"  asked  her  brother  Robert,  one 
pleasant  evening  in  June. 

Helen  looked  grave,  and  did  not  speak. 

"  Why  are  you  so  solemn  about  it  ?"  he  asked  again. 

She  smiled  now.  "  Please,  Robert,  do  not  speak  of  such 
a  thing.  I  have  no  idea  of  leaving  Truro.  What  would 
dear  father  and  mother  do  without  me  in  their  old  age  ? 
Do  you  not  know,"  and  she  smiled  again,  "  how  very  neces- 
sary and  important  a  person  I  am  in  the  family  ?" 

"  So  you  mean  to  sacrifice  yourself  on  the  altar  of  Duty, 
instead  of  Hymen  ?"  he  said,  jocosely. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  let  us  talk  about  it,"  she  said,  in  her  cheer- 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  427 

fullest  way,  that  itself  said  she  was  resolved  to  cast  no  un- 
necessary shadows. 

But  he  was  perverse.  "  Suppose  some  one  should  take 
your  place  here  at  Truro  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Theresa,  for  instance,"  she  answered,  with  a  meaning  smile. 

"  No,  indeed,"  he  replied,  with  a  little  sigh ;  "  she  never 
before  staid  so  long  at  Truro,  and  is  already  urging  me 
to  leave.  I  suppose  I  must  travel  the  world  over.  But 
I  take  a  happy  heart  with  me,  wherever  I  go,"  he  added, 
more  cheerfully,  as  he  saw  a  shade  of  pity  for  him  cross 
Nellie's  face.  "  To  come  back  to  the  old  subject,  Nellie : 
How  do  you  think  Hetty  Hughes  would  fill  your  place  ?" 

"  Cousin  Hetty  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  puzzled  way. 

"  No,  not  Cousin  Hetty,  but  Niece  Hetty." 

"Niece,  Hetty?" 

"  Yes,  your  niece  and  my  daughter  Hetty — Mrs.  Robert 
Lee  the  third." 

"  Brother  Robert,"  she  exclaimed,  incredulously,  as  the 
light  broke  through  her  perplexity,  "  you  certainly  have  no 
idea  of  letting  those  young  things  get  married  ?" 

"  I  have.  It  is 'all  settled.  Your  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother, and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hughes,  and  myself,  and  even 
Theresa,  on  condition  that  I  will  not  ask  her  to  spend  another 
winter  here,  have  given  their  consent." 

"  But  is  it  best,  Robert  ?" 

"  It  is  best  for  yov-,  at  least,"  he  said,  kissing  her ;  "  and 
if  there  were  no  other  '  best'  about  it,  that  would  decide  it 
with  me.  They  are  to  be  married  in  October,  when  the 
trees  have  their  gayest  attire  on  ;  and  I  would  advise  you  to 
tell  the  minister  to  look  after  his  August  roses,  that  the  par- 
sonage may  smile  in  rosy  hues  on  its  new  mistress." 


428  ORANGE     BLOSSOMS-    AND     MYRTLE. 

On  the  last  day  of  August  the  wedding  was  solemnized, 
in  the  church,  before  the  crowded  congregation.  Hetty 
Hughes  was  bride's-maid,  and  Robert  Lee  groom's-man. 
Mrs.  Seymour's  pastor  (and  Perry's  former  pastor)  officiated. 

The  next  week  Albert  Seymour,  Esq.,  counselor-at-law 
and  gentleman,  was  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  Broad 
street  parvenu.  It  was  an  attempt  at  fair  bargaining ;  Al- 
bert receiving  a  fortune,  and  the  ambitious  lady  purchasing 
thereby  an  entree  to  "  first  circles,"  that  opened  their  doors 
more  freely  to  the  husband  than  they  ever  did  to  his  wife. 

When  Albert's  engagement  was  announced,  a  year  pre- 
vious to  his  marriage,  Mrs.  Seymour  declared  her  intention 
of  relinquishing  the  boarding-house.  But  she  would  accept 
neither  the  formal  invitation  of  Albert,  nor  the  pressing  en- 
treaty of  Perry,  to  make  her  home  with  them.  Perry  was 
sure  that  she  intended  to  come  and  reside  with  him,  though 
unwilling  to  pledge  herself  to  it  in  a  way  that  might  render 
it  difficult  for  her  to  leave  him  should  it  ever  be  desirable. 

Poor  Mr.  Sickles  seemed  to  be  at  his  wit's  end.  Where 
should  he  find  a  home  ?  He  believed  he  must  give  up 
business,  go  into  the  country,  and  live  economically.  Perry's 
cordial  and  reiterated  request  that  he  would  take  permanent 
possession  of  the  suite  of  rooms  over  the  library,  in  Bed- 
minster  Parsonage,  was  persistently  refused.  No,  Perry 
must  and  should  get  married  ;  and  his  wife  must  not  be 
pestered  with  an  old  man  to  take  care  of;  besides,  did  Perry 
marry,  it  would  be  necessary  for  him  (Mr.  Sickles)  to  buy 
and  keep  her  good  will  with  a  perennial  stream  of  costly 
presents,  and  that  would  eventually  ruin  him.  He  would 
not,  therefore,  live  with  Perry,  he  said,  but  Perry  was  his 
son,  and  he  would  get  as  near  to  him  as  he  could.  So  he 


ORANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  429 

bought  several  acres  adjoining  Bedrainster  Parsonage,  on 
the  south  side,  and  put  up  there  the  very  prettiest  cottage 
ever  seen,  with  an  aviary  and  green-house  nearly  as  large 
as  the  cottage  itself. 

Perry  and  Helen  returned  from  Albert's  wedding  in  time 
for  that  of  Robert  and  Hetty.  The  Tannery  was  never 
graced  with  so  fashionable  a  company.  The  youthful  pair 
won  all  hearts.  Even  Charlotte  and  Emma,  wiser  by  ex- 
perience, perhaps,  beamed  upon  them  with  patronizing 
smiles.  Old  Mrs.  Jay,  almost  too  ancient  and  feeble  to  carry 
the  weight  of  diamonds  that  sparkled  on  her  stout  person, 
received  the  bride  to  the  bosom  of  her  aristocratic  family 
with  remarkable  cordiality :  and  even  Theresa  confessed  that 
she  was  "  a  love  of  a  daughter."  Norton  was  present,  and 
received  Hetty  to  the  next  place  in  his  heart  to  Helen,  his 
chief  pride  and  delight.  Rupert  looking  rather  old  and 
jagged,  and  Pauline,  looking  pale  and  sickly,  and  Harry, 
with  a  very  gruff,  business-like  air,  and  Mrs.  Harry  Lee,  very 
stiff  and  grand  as  became  the  daughter  of  one  rich  man  and 
wife  of  one  still  richer,  were  all  present. 

Of  course  there  must  be  a  giving-visit  at  Bedminster  Par- 
sonage, a  good,  old-fashioned  one,  to  welcome  the  bride. 
All  were  in  favor  of  it,  and  Helen  delighted  in  the  prospect 
of  it.  There  was  no  little  difficulty  as  to  "  what  folks  should 
take  :"  for  the  minister  was  rich  noW  and  "  did  n't  need 
much  help."  But  it  was  understood  that  whatever  was 
brought,  whether  little  or  much,  would  be  lovingly  received, 
if  it  only  came  with  love.  Mr.  Sickles  wrote  word  that  he 
hoped  to  attend  the  giviug-visit,  as  one  of  the  parishioners, 
and  should  admonish  his  housekeeper  to  prepare  some  sort 


430  OKANGE     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE. 

of  a  present.  He  could  not  go  to  any  great  expense  in  the 
matter,  if  Perry  was  his  soa,  for  he  could  not  afford  it,  and 
his  pesky  cottage  had  cost  so  much. 

The  donation-party  was  indeed  an  old-fashioned  one,  at 
least  as  far  as  precious  love  could  make  it  so.  And  greatly 
it  endeared  the  pastor  and  his  wife  to  the  hearts  of  the  Cedar- 
ville  congregation.  All  had  assembled  :  the  young  people 
were  scampering  about  the  grounds  and  the  older  had  worn 
off  the  stiffness  o£  the  first  arrival  and  ceremonious  saluta- 
tions, when  Mr.  Joshua  Sickles  made  his  appearance  at  the 
gate,  with  his  housekeeper  on  his  arm.  A  servant  followed 
them,  carrying  a  basket,  heavy  with  something.  Kitty  White 
happened  to  stand  by  the  gate,  and  as  the  servant  passed 
through,  attempted  slyly  to  lift  up  the  lid  of  the  basket,  but 
the  arm  of  a  tall,  erect  lady  in  black  satin,  whom,  in  her 
intentness  on  the  basket  she  had  not  observed,  pressed  the 
lid  down  again  and  waved  reprovingly  the  curious  Kitty 
away.  Kitty,  nevertheless,  declared  confidentially  to  a  dozen 
friends,  that  the  basket  was  full  of  silver,  for  she  saw  it  with 
her  own  eyes.  There  was  some  curiosity  to  see  the  house- 
keeper (not  so  much  as  to  see  into  the  basket),  but  she  kept 
her  vail  down.  Perry  went  to  meet  his  dear  old  friend. 
The  housekeeper  draws  her  vail  aside  and  Perry  starts  back. 
"  Why,"  exclaim  half  a  dozen  voices,  "  the  pastor  is  kissing 
Mr.  Sickles'  housekeeper !"  Helen  now  runs  to  join  them 
and  cries  out  before  she  ^ets  up  to  them,  "  why  mother 
Seymour,  is  that  you  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear,  it  is  mother  Sickles,  if  you  please,"  inter- 
posed Mr.  Sickles. 

"  Uncle  Joshua  !  how  could  you !" 

Mr.  Sickles   was  too   happy  to   answer   otherwise   than 


£ 

ORANGK     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE.  431 

by  a  hearty  laugh.  Miss  Electa  Van  Home,  however, 
stepped  forward  to  claim  attention,  with  a  step  and  counte- 
nance betraying  more  than  her  usual  dignity  and  self-ini- 
portance. 

"/,"  she  said,  with  emphasis  on  the  pronoun,  "  said  that 
he  should,  just  as  I  said  that  you  should,"  addressing  her- 
self to  Perry.  And  Miss  Van  Home  looked  as  proud  and 
satisfied  as  if  her  saying  so  could  be  proved  by  demonstra- 
tion to  have  brought  about  the  double  mamage. 

a  •       to 

Mrs.  Sickles  and  Perry  both  were  pale  "and  tremulous. 
"  It  was  not  my  fault  that  you  did  not  know,"  she  whispered. 
"  He  would  have  it  so." 

The  first  moment's  agitation  was  soon  over,  and  the  unex- 
pected welcoming  added  another  ray  to  the  sunshine  of  Bed- 
minster  Parsonage  and  crowned  the  happiness  of  the  as- 
sembled company. 

Mr.  Amos  Graves  and  Mr.  George  Hughes,  the  two  prom- 
inent elders  of  Cedarville  church,  shook  hands  over  and  over 
again  :  every  time  they  met  they  shook  hands  and  repeated 
exactly  the  same  words,  "  What  a  bright,  beautiful  day  this 
is."  It  was  surprising  how  often  one  or  the  other  discovered 
that  the  sky  was  cloudless  and  the  atmosphere  balmy  :  and 
each  time  proclaimed  the  discovery,  unaware  of  the  redund- 
ancy of  their  admiration  of  the  weather.  As  for  Steve  Ball 
(bad  habits,  long  indulged,  had  weakened  the  poor  fellow's 
nervous  system),  lie  was  discovered  by  Kitty  White,  sitting 
on  the  ground,  under  a  tree,  sobbing  and  weeping  like  a 
child,  "  all  for  joy,  that  the  two  peifectest  critturs  on  the 
earth  had  come  to  Bedminster  Parsonage — 't  was  better  than 
if 't  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Poole  agin." 
*  Mr.  Lee  sat  in  one  of  the  Windsor  chairs  on  the  piazza, 


432  ORANGK     BLOSSOMS     AND     MYRTLE. 

watching  the  young  people  at  their  sports ;  and  he  remem« 
bered,  how,  once  on  a  similar  occasion,  good  Deacon  Hayes 
had  admonished  him  of  the  day  when  he  would  be  an  old 
man,  and  prayed  that  he  might  then,  with  tranquil  and 
cheerful  hope  be  waiting  for  the  summons  to  an  endless 
future.  Mrs.  Lee  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts,  for  a  tear 
silently  fell  from  her  eye — but  it  must  have  been  some  sort 
of  joy  that  sent  that  briny  witness  down  her  cheek,  for  never 
did  a  quiet  face  took  happier  than  hers. 

Mrs.  Hetty  Hughes  forgot  the  pastor  and  his  wife,  much 
as  she  loved  them :  she  was  too  busy  watching  with  a 
mother's  pride  and  joy,  her  two  children,  Robert  and  Hetty 
Lee.  How  handsome  he  was,  how  beautiful  she — how  good 
both  were  !  Then  she  thought  of  her  dear  old  father,  and  of 
his  sage  philosophizing  about  the  intersecting  circles  of  life  : 
— and  now  she  knew  why  Robert  Lee's  and  her's  had  crossed 
in  early  life,  to  come  together  again  in  their  children.  And 
Robert  Lee,  in  his  heart,  that  day,  blessed  Hetty  Hughes  for 
what  she  had  done  for  Nellie  Lee,  and  he  blessed  Nellie 
for  what  she  had  done  for  his  dear  boy  Robert  and  for  him- 
self ;  and  he  blessed  God,  with  a  full  heart,  for  what  HE  had 
done  for  all. 


JTS1B. 


A    000  040  077     o 


